


This Wonderful Mess

by zetsubooty



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: (very) light medical kink, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Developing Friendships, Frottage, M/M, Masturbation, Porn as Plot, Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn-ish, Terrible Fantasy Abe, basically just adventures in building relationships and communication, def for the second two ships, idk I will add further tags as they become relevant, jesus what else have these two gotten up to...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-15 04:50:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 14
Words: 72,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4593459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zetsubooty/pseuds/zetsubooty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mihashi's really excited about pitching to Abe! Maybe a little TOO excited... And as much as Abe terrifies him, even when he’s most scared, Mihashi can’t help wanting to reach out, ask for comfort. Wanting to ask for something more, even if he’d never dare.</p><p>And Abe's sure noticed that something’s Up, but he's not entirely certain he's right about what's going on. He'd better investigate a little before he does anything about it...</p><p>But every time they get closer, every time they seem to connect, things just keep going sideways. They almost seem to go hand-in-hand. Neither of them are sure how to talk about this stuff, and why bother? It’ll just end in failure, and anyway, there are MUCH more interesting things they could be doing…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lead-off

**Author's Note:**

> Another repost;;;; OTL This story started as rping with my bb, dive-wing (you can find her on tumblr she is Quality People) and also I'm eternally grateful to harunamotokis (also on tumblr, also Quality People) for her help editing some of the chapters--it was such a big help when I was starting out and even MORE unsure of myself;;;;;
> 
> The whole fic is rated E but I will be tagging chapters in notes as NSFW as they arise, if that's a thing people want. Please also be aware that this fic deals largely with communication and some of the complexities of consent that arise from a lack thereof, but also with the process of learning to do better together. As always, please let me know if you think this fic needs to be tagged with anything or I need to warn for something!!

“Alright! One more.” Abe throws him the ball and sets up—slider, lower left.

Mihashi blinks a few times, peering past Abe to where a few straggling teammates are chatting, picking up their bikes to head back to the clubhouse. He smiles shyly as he throws. _I’m pretty sure Abe’s letting me pitch longer than usual today._ There’s the thwack of the ball hitting Abe’s glove; not so solid as he’d like, not so loud, but satisfying nonetheless. _But I’m not going to complain! It means…_ It means extra time spent watching Abe, extra time being (relatively) near him, extra time with his steady gaze focused solely on Mihashi. He looks away, shivering a little.

Grabbing the ball out of his glove, Abe rises from his crouch and pulls his mask from his face, looking past the fence. Mihashi glances over at him, then follows his gaze, wondering if there’s something there. But it’s just the other guys riding past and around the corner, out of sight.

By the time he looks back, Abe’s already moving towards the dugout. Wriggling his hand out of his glove, Mihashi clutches it against his chest briefly, then dips his chin to half-hide behind it. It won’t take long for Abe to get there, but he’s still got a decent amount of time to linger here and watch.

Except Abe’s stopped, and is glancing back at him.

“Mihashi? What’re you doing?” _Oops_. Mihashi starts violently, dropping his glove. Flailing, he miraculously recovers it before it hits the ground. When he looks back up, Abe’s fixing him with an unimpressed glare; he meets Mihashi's eyes briefly before sighing and looking away. He makes a beckoning gesture, calling out to him, “Come help me with my gear before we do your stretches.”

He jogs to catch up, though Abe still gets to the dugout well before him. He’s just standing next to the bench, apparently minutely examining the corrugated metal back of the dugout. He seems preoccupied, wiping sweat out of his eyes with an absent expression. Mihashi eyes him warily, edging closer.  _It's probably me._ _I probably messing up somehow, and now Abe has to think of how to make sure it won’t cause problems in games…_ He shakes his head. _I’ll definitely hear about it if I needs to know, so in the mean time, I should do what I was told to!_ Kneeling behind Abe, he slips his fingers under one of the straps crisscrossing his calf. Now it’s Abe’s turn to startle, peering over his shoulder at Mihashi with raised eyebrows, eyes wide. Only for a second, though, then he busies himself with his chest protector.

Mihashi doesn’t really notice, smiling to himself as he unbuckles the shin guards. Even doing little things like taking off Abe’s catching gear—which Hatake _never_ asked him to do—feel good, make him feel like he can be useful, so maybe they’ll want him to stay here. _So Abe will want me to stay here._ He can feel the heat radiating off Abe’s skin through his clothes; he smells like grass and dirt and sweat and Mihashi catches himself just short of shoving his face against the back of his thigh. Cheeks pink, he resumes loosening a strap, having some trouble on account of his slightly shaky hands.

Abe glances at him over his shoulder again with a curious expression, though he’s looking away by the time Mihashi stands back up. He starts to offer the shin guards, but Abe’s busy examining his glove, which unfortunately leaves Mihashi more time to think.

 _It’s true that I wasn’t any use to Hatake—or anyone at Mihoshi, certainly not Kanou—but then again they also didn’t have to waste so much time on me…_ He clutches the shin-guards to his chest. _It must be such a pain having to work so hard to make up for all I lack as a pitcher, having to help me practice, having to stick around even after everyone else gets to go home... I’m lucky Abe’s nice to me, patient with me. He’s probably just being nice now. Probably wants to leave. That must have been what he was thinking about earlier, regretting his offer to help me stretch._

 _I should apologise. I shouldn’t keep Abe here. Even though I really want to, wanna feel his hands on me, want it to be ABE making my body relax._ Mihashi shivers again; maybe things like that are all the more reason for Abe to go.

Abe glances over his shoulder in time to catch the little twitch. "What's up? You cold?"

“No! Not...not cold! Um...um... A-Abe-kun doesn’t have...” Mihashi’s eyes flick around the dugout; look anywhere, just not at the droplet of sweat trailing down Abe’s nape, the streak of dirt up his thigh and over his butt. “Doesn’t have to help if...if... I can s-stretch by myself??”

Abe turns fully on him with a bland, lightly irate expression, leaving Mihashi with his stomach twisting unpleasantly. He finds himself staring back, eyebrows pulling together in a worried frown. The corner of Abe’s mouth twitches distractingly a few times before he forces his expression into something a little less threatening.

"No. Not happening," he replies in a surprisingly mild tone (although a note of irritation still creeps in), "It's better if I help you out so I can make sure you're doing it properly. You wouldn't want to strain a muscle because of a stupid mistake."

It’s moderately reassuring. Until the thought that he’s such a burden that he can’t even be trusted to STRETCH on his own pops into his mind. Biting his lip, Mihashi risks another glance at Abe, who seems lost in thought again.

Abruptly, Abe grabs the front of his jersey, making Mihashi flinch as he hauls him, stumbling and starting to panic, over...over to the drink cooler at the side of the dugout. _Oh_.

"Here, rehydrate before Shinooka takes this back." Abe stands behind Mihashi, shifting his hold to his shoulder. His grip is light, but the feel of Abe’s fingers pressing against his skin through his clothes is electrifying; for a moment, all Mihashi can do is stand staring at the cooler as colour rises in his cheeks.

Shaking himself, he bends a little to work the spigot. Abe hasn’t taken his hand away, and it’s hard not to be painfully aware of him standing over him. He’s not sure why he’s still there, why he’s still touching him. Probably just making sure he actually does what he’s told. It’s just something little, but Mihashi’s grateful for any opportunity to show that he can follow directions, that he’s not totally useless. He smiles tremulously in between gulps of tepid water. Whatever Abe’s thinking, his hand is warm and comforting on his shoulder; as Mihashi laps up the last few drops, he leans back into Abe’s grip. Just a little.

Maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but it feels like Abe squeezes his shoulder as he presses back against him. Before Mihashi can be certain, though, he claps him firmly on the back and releases him. He grabs another cup for himself, and Mihashi skitters out of the way so he can fill it, watching him as he steps away to drink. He refills his own cup, still side-eyeing Abe to enjoy the elegant stretch of his neck as he tips his head back, the movement of his throat as he drinks.

It occurs to him that he should perhaps finish drinking and put the cup down, not just stand here staring. As he turns back, though, he can’t help hoping Abe’s still looking away, and he can watch a little longer.

He’s not. He’s looking at Mihashi’s legs.

Abe’s eyes flick back up, and he gives him a definitive nod. “Good. Let’s go out into the field.” He glances down again, then slowly moves his gaze up Mihashi’s body until he reaches his face once more. Flushing brightly, Mihashi can't maintain eye contact; Abe probably doesn’t mean anything by it, but having him look him over like that is...a little too exciting. He does peek at him when he continues. “...Are you sore anywhere in particular? How’s your shoulder holding up?”

Mihashi shrugs his shoulder up, cranes his head to examine it as though that would help him better assess its state. “Ah...it’s...” Realising he’s not actually accomplishing anything helpful, he windmills his arms a couple times. “Sh-shoulder...it’s not bad!” The right one is tired, for sure, but not really that sore. What hurts more is his thighs and torso—even just raising his arms, he can feel the tight pull of muscles down his back to his hips. _That’s because I’ve been doing things outside of practice time, though, and Abe might get mad about that..._ The thought makes Mihashi even LESS willing to look up, avoiding his eyes even when Abe tilts his head to see his face.

 _He’s obviously getting impatient, so I’d better decide what to say fast! Then again...if I DO say something, Abe will have to touch me for longer, right?_ His barely-subsided blush returns with a vengeance. Ducking his head, he prods his belly thoughtfully. _I shouldn’t ask for anything too strange, though. Would that be strange? Abe might think it was strange, might say no..._

“Is something wrong with your stomach?” Abe’s voice cuts through, making Mihashi’s head jerk up with a deer-in-headlights look. His hands curl into fists against the bottom of his ribcage, and he opens and closes his mouth a few times, nothing but quick, panted breaths coming out.

“N-no... Not...not...nothing.”

“Not nothing.” That was maybe not the best answer. “Look, if you need—” Abe’s eyebrow is twitching. “I’m ASKING you, so would you tell me if something hurts, already?”

Mihashi’s fists are slowly creeping up towards his chin, elbows pulled in tight against his body.  _Gotta answer._ “Yeah, it’s...little bit...sore there? And my legs.”

Abe nods, then suddenly narrows his eyes at Mihashi’s legs, starts to say something...but then, to Mihashi’s surprise, shuts his mouth. He gestures vaguely at Mihashi’s lower body. “Alright. We’ll stretch out your legs and core, too, then.” Mihashi nods vigorously, glad that he doesn’t have to answer any more questions. Abe takes a few steps away, then looks back. “You look overheated, actually. You should take off your jersey; it’ll help you cool down. Just your undershirt will be fine.” It’s hard to tell with the light behind him, but for a second when he turns, Abe’s face looks a bit pink.

Mihashi unbuttons his jersey, shrugging out of it and dumping it on the bench. Thinking a moment, he drops his cap on top before jogging to where Abe’s kneeling in the grass. He slows as he gets close to watch him smooth his fingers over the back of his neck, wiping away a drop of sweat.

“On your side. Here.”

Abe takes him through the regular arm and shoulder stretches; the routine and (relative) unexcitingness of having his arms touched helps Mihashi calm down a little. To the point that he’s almost sleepy when Abe has him sit up, and he has to tell him twice not to sit with his legs so close together. Hands on Mihashi’s shoulder and side, he pushes, helping him bend to the side over one leg. Also routine. Once Mihashi’s stretched over all the way, Abe slides his hand off his ribs, grazing his waist but ending with his palm demurely on top of his thigh. Slightly less routine. Mihashi tenses, but relaxes with a happy sigh as Abe leans on him, using his weight to deepen the stretch. _No, this is normal. I’m just noticing the way Abe touches me more than usual today_. He counts out the seconds, trying to breathe deeply like he’s supposed to, trying to stay calm.

Abe lets him up, then sets his hand on his other shoulder, pushing him over again. This time, there’s no hand slipping down his side, so it was definitely just an accident earlier.

Then Abe DOES set his hand on his leg again, except higher up, nearly on his hip. Mihashi inhales sharply, eyes wide. _Probably another accident. And anyway, Abe probably doesn’t know…doesn’t know about stuff like that being exciting._

_Maybe I should say something, point it out...? But! But it’d be embarrassing, and probably Abe would stop touching me there... Better not to._

Most of Abe’s weight is on his palm, but Mihashi can distinctly feel his fingers pressing into his inner thigh. It’s really, really hard not to think about how close that hand is to his dick, hard not to think about how little Abe would have to move to touch it. Especially hard to ignore it when his fingers twitch like that.

But then Abe’s hands are gone. Mihashi sits up again; as he does so, his pants shift a little over his crotch, calling his attention to the fact that getting touched like that has left him half-hard. He jerks his knees up against his chest.

“Turn towards me.” Mihashi debates the wisdom of refusing, but can’t think of a single non-mortifying reason to do so. He scoots around so that Abe’s beside him, turning his head to look at him with what he was _hoping_ would be a neutral expression, but probably falls more in the ‘abject terror’ category. Abe stares at him, incredulity fading into irritation. “ _All_ the way.” Obediently, he turns the rest of the way, pulling his knees up closer, clutching at them. Although with the scary face Abe’s making now, he probably won’t need to hide behind them much longer.

Except that face-to-face, he’s suddenly very aware of Abe’s scent again. After practice, with ten guys changing in the tiny clubroom, everyone just… _stinks_. _So why does Abe smell so good? Did he always smell this good? I want...  
_

Mihashi ducks his head, pressing his chin to his shoulder, glancing at Abe out of the corner of his eye. He’s sitting half-up on his knees, looking down at Mihashi with a slight frown. Suddenly, he leans forward; Mihashi squeaks, twitching away when Abe sets his hands on his knees, close, so very close to his own tight fingers.

Abe squeezes, then gently pushes Mihashi’s knees outwards. “I don’t think we’ve done this one before. Keep your heels together, but push your knees towards the ground.” Mihashi lets his legs fall open, leaning back on his hands and staring intently at his shoes. “That’s right. Now, lay back.”

Mihashi’s eyes flick up and he smiles shyly at Abe. Whose hands are still on his legs. Hands. Touching legs. Except that he’s shifted them above Mihashi’s knees, now, onto his thighs. Mihashi holds his breath, blushing as Abe leans in more until his face is very, very close. Which is why it’s a little jolting when he says, at his customary volume, “Mi-ha-shi. Are you listening? Lay back!”

Mihashi flops backward a little too fast, thankful his head hits grass and not something harder. Abe makes an alarmed noise, grabbing for the front of his shirt with one hand, the other slipping to press into the softness of Mihashi’s upper thigh. Fingers curling, he attempts to brace himself.

They stare at one another with wide eyes for a few seconds, and Mihashi feels like his entire body must be a brilliant red. Abe looks a little flushed, too, when his gaze flicks down to where he’s still clutching Mihashi’s shirt. He doesn’t look up again like Mihashi expects, just inhales shakily, letting go of him and sliding his hand back to somewhere less exciting.

Abe turns his head to the side, glancing back at Mihashi from the corner of his eye. “Quit goofing off and stretch properly,” he grumbles.

 _I’ve done something weird, something wrong. I MUST have._ “S-so...so...sorry!” Mihashi squeezes his eyes shut, missing Abe’s lips twitching up in a tiny self-satisfied smile.

_I definitely did something bad, if Abe won’t even LOOK at me now... Was it just lying back too quick? Maybe it was because I made Abe touch me like that... Could he tell how it made me feel? Could...could he somehow tell…tell about all the stuff I was thinking just a moment before? Abe’s probably thinking I’m a pervert, I’m awful. THAT’S why he won’t look…_

But then again, he’s still got his hands on Mihashi’s knees, so things might be okay. _Besides, it’s not like I’ve done anything wrong. It’s fine to look, right? It’s okay to be lying here, thinking about Abe’s blushing face, right? Thinking about the sudden feel of his weight, his hand on my side, my hip. Thinking about the way he’s pushing down on my legs, the way his fingers just twitched again. Imagining him moving his hands up closer to where he pulled my shirt untucked when he grabbed it and— It’s fine, if I’m not DOING anything, right??  
_

Except that certain parts of his body seem to have missed the ‘not doing anything’ memo. _O-oh, thinking about that stuff was maybe a bad plan…_ Having his eyes closed isn’t really adequate anymore; Mihashi drags his arms crossed over his face, drawing an alarmed frown from Abe. His legs are tensing up, pulling together, as if that would help. _Maybe Abe won’t notice??_ He lifts his head minutely to peek at him from behind his arms. Nope. He’s looking directly at Mihashi’s crotch; Mihashi watches the movement of his throat as he swallows, cheeks pink. He can’t look anymore, lets his head drop back.

Abe leans back until his touch is just a light pressure, pats Mihashi’s knees once, twice. “Hey. Calm down.” His voice sounds surprisingly sedate for someone who just found out his pitcher is some kind of horrible weirdo pervert.

 _Maybe, if I’m really lucky, Abe won’t totally hate me because of this. I’ve got to try and settle down._ Otherwise, Abe might stop. Otherwise, Abe might never do this again. Tears prick at his eyes, and he’s doubly glad his face is covered right now, because crying always seems to make Abe angry, crying will just make Abe hate him more.

Mihashi gulps in huge breaths of air, trying to relax. _Don’t think about anything. Think about math. Math tests. Yes. Boring math tests. Like the one I’m probably going to fail in a couple weeks... No, maybe not math. Math is also a bad choice._ At any rate, it seems to be working. It’s possible to pull his arms away from his face, now.

He does his best to focus on the slowly releasing tension in his legs, and not on Abe’s hands. Mihashi glances down, looking away immediately when Abe meets his eyes. He looks... familiarly inscrutable. _That’s good, though? Maybe?? For him to look normal._

_Did he REALLY look normal?_

He glances down again, plinking at Abe briefly and then looking away again _. Yeah, pretty normal. Better check one more time, just in case... No, now he looks annoyed. Which is normal. So...still good???_ He looks one more time.

Abe sighs, giving his legs another squeeze before pulling his hands away completely. “I’m—” he starts, then pauses and glances back to the dugout. “I’m going to go finish cleaning up. You stretch properly, then come and join me. I'll wait for you."

Propping himself up on his elbows, Mihashi nods mutely, watching him walk away. _I guess I still did something wrong…_ He shakes himself, then bends over into another leg stretch. He’s probably already screwed up enough that one more mistake won’t matter. He just has to do his best to make up for it somehow.

* * *

He was aiming for tactical retreat, but it feels a bit more like he’s fleeing. The moment he’s out of sight, Abe scrubs his hands through his hair vigourously in an attempt to blow off some of his pent-up frustration. He lingers at the back of the dugout, but he knows he’s just hiding and eventually goes to collect and clean his gear. He’s grateful for the familiar, almost mindless task, giving him a chance to compose himself. This whole plan is going perhaps _too_ well, and, though he’s loathe to admit it, it’s got him rattled. He’s not going to back down, though. He needs to know. Absolutely, without a doubt, _know_.

Mihashi’s taking an awfully long time. Unable to resist, he peers across the field to where he’s still…he’s staring at him. Mihashi ducks his head as soon as he notices Abe looking at him, and goes back to stretching. Abe watches him for a minute, making sure he’s actually doing it properly before he returns to his task.

He’s already packed his gear into a carrying case, dropping it outside the dugout, and moved on to the next task by the time Mihashi returns. He’s crouching down to check over some baseballs in a bucket when he looks over his shoulder to find Mihashi fidgeting with a ball, swinging his head to look around the confines of the dugout. Abe’s eyebrow twitches, but he waves him closer just the same. Mihashi isn’t really helping him with the ‘don’t get irritated’ part of the plan, edging over with his eyes all wide, clutching the ball to his chest, looking like he thinks Abe’s planning to bite him or something.

He sighs. “Look, just collect anything that needs to go into the shed. We should get it put away quick and then go shower.” He stops part way through standing when Mihashi suddenly offers him the ball, nearly whacking him in the face. Looking even more anxious, Mihashi sways around him to drop the ball in the bucket. Abe stands, brushing dust off the front of his pants. “...Are your legs feeling any better?” _Try and distract him, before he starts freaking out._

“Yes! Better? All better!” Mihashi backs away slowly, staring at him for a moment before diving under the bench after a stray batting glove.

Abe watches with an increasingly annoyed expression as Mihashi prances around, seeming to seek out all the most unnecessary tasks. He exhales a heavy, rushed breath and shrugs it off before he goes back to tidying. _At least he answered._ Mihashi’s clearly still flustered from earlier, and Abe has every intention of giving him space so that he can collect himself. Not that he expects much.

But Mihashi seems to have mostly forgotten his distress, and has gone back to peeking at him over his shoulder or around the side of the shed. It’s simultaneously pleasing and obnoxious.

Thankfully, they don’t take too much longer to finish. Abe hauls the bag of catcher’s gear back up onto his shoulder, adjusting the strap, and turns to find Mihashi staring at him yet again.

“Ah...a-Abe-kun, I...” He ducks his head, then peers up at Abe in a way that, on anyone else, would be considered coy.

“Hm? What is--”

“Um. I...today...l-l-little bit ha...” Abe squints at him, trying to parse out what he’s trying to say; _does he realise he’s completely incomprehensible?_ But then he’s left blinking down at Mihashi as he goes on. “I...I’m! Happy! Because s-s-staying with...with Abe-kun...k-k-kind of fun??”

The strap slips off his shoulder, the case tumbling to the ground beside him and making Mihashi jump, though Abe barely registers it himself. He stares in lightly stunned silence, waiting for Mihashi to continue, but he seems to have exhausted whatever boldness he had summoned to make that little declaration. “What...? Why?!”

Mihashi jumps again, then blushes, looking down and fussing with the hem of his undershirt. Which Abe can’t help noticing is now completely untucked from his pants. “Ah...well, that...that is...Abe-kun stayed so...because I can’t be...wouldn’t...” Self-conscious and jittery now, Mihashi half-covers his mouth with one fist, drawing Abe’s eyes downward with the tight, random little movements his hips make. “Abe-kun is...is nice to me! Even if...even though...n-no good, even...I do...b-b-bad things...” With the way he’s blushing now, Abe has a pretty good idea what he’s considering a ‘bad thing’. Turning a little pink himself, he makes a motion like he’s trying to adjust the bag of gear, not reacting even when his hands find nothing there. Instead, he just gapes as Mihashi forces more words out, hand now curled in front of his chest. “And...and even! Even though Abe-kun d-doesn’t like...m-me, Abe-kun is...is a really good person! And still...still catches, and...helps...and... I-I’m glad! Pi-pitch for...someone like Abe-kun now,” he finishes, eyes squeezed shut, bright red.

His skin prickles with heat and his stomach turns with a confusing combination of guilt and pleasure. He opens his mouth to speak, closes it again, then reaches up to place his hand on Mihashi’s head, fingers sliding into his fluffy hair. Mihashi opens one eye to look up at him, then the other, smiling tentatively, then closing them again when Abe abruptly ruffles his hair with rough, jerky motions.

“Who ever said I didn’t like you, huh?” He grips Mihashi’s hair. “Don’t say something so stupid.” He kind of stops paying attention to what he’s saying partway through when Mihashi gasps out a soft breath, eyes half-closing. Abe’s hand twitches, eliciting another quiet sound; he stares blankly for a moment before giving Mihashi’s hair a final little tug and releasing him.

“I...I...sorry? I...”

Not waiting for Mihashi to finish his stammered response, Abe bends to pick the case up and sidles past him to put it away. Embarrassed now, he avoids Mihashi’s gaze as he makes his way back over.

He gestures to the gate. “C'mon. It’s getting late, and we still have to shower before we go home. Everyone else has probably left already.” Mihashi nods vigourously and then trots after him.

* * *

 

The air in the clubroom is still thick with humidity even though it's empty by the time they get there. Abe sets his cap in his cubbyhole, then peels off his shirts, relieved to finally be free of the stifling material.

He glances over at Mihashi, who appears to have got his head stuck inside his undershirt, and is now standing there with his arms over his head, perhaps contemplating the deep mysteries of the universe. Goosebumps rise on Abe’s nape as he eyes Mihashi’s stomach, but by the time Mihashi flails his way out of the shirt, he’s looking away. Though he still catches a glimpse of Mihashi’s flushed face as he blinks wide-eyed at him, panting a little, hair even more of a fluffy mess than usual. Abe busies himself with folding his shirts neatly before tucking them into his bag, then sits to remove his shoes and socks.

It’s awkwardly silent except for the distant slow drip of water somewhere outside and the rustle of Mihashi messing around with his bag. With his shoes off and socks tucked neatly inside of them, Abe glances over at Mihashi. Just in time to watch him unceremoniously shove his spikes in on top of his tangle of clothing and then stand there, hands on his belt buckle, spacing out again.

Abe steps across the old wood floor and reaches into Mihashi’s bag to pluck out his spikes, making him start violently. He puts them down on the bench, then grabs Mihashi’s bag, pulling it open and glaring down at the rumpled contents.

“You need to fold your clothes before you put them in your bag,” he snaps as he reaches in, retrieving a dirt-smudged cap which had been lightly crushed under the cleats. Mihashi gives him a wide-eyed, fearful look, a fist pressed against his chest, just under the curve of his collarbone. “And look at this.” He shakes out the hat. “Your hat will get ruined if you treat it like this.” He turns a questioning look on Mihashi, but can’t catch his eye: Mihashi’s looking from his bag to the hat to Abe’s stomach, lingering there a moment before he stares intently at the rows of cubbies.

“Ah...I...I...” Chin pressed against his shoulder, Mihashi grabs for his hat but misses, hand sliding along Abe’s forearm. He squeaks. Abe blinks down at the unexpected contact until Mihashi jerks his hand back, gasping like he’d been burned. Mihashi tries again for the hat, successfully this time. “S-s-sorry! Sorry! I’ll...them...now!”

Mihashi hesitates, hand poised to reach into the bag, eyes flicking up to Abe’s face. With a quiet sigh, Abe sets the bag back down on the bench. He leans in to observe Mihashi shake out his jersey (more energetically than entirely necessary) and fold it. He tidies everything away satisfactorily, glancing up at Abe periodically, obviously hoping for praise. Ridiculous, but much preferable to his earlier distress.

“Good, that’s better,” he says with a nod, giving Mihashi a light pat on the back of his head. Mihashi breathes out an odd, quiet laugh, dipping his chin, blushing. With some difficulty, Abe suppresses a smirk; that desire for approval, at least, he can read easily enough.

But Mihashi’s hair is soft under his fingertips, and Abe feels his amusement drain away as he becomes overly aware of it. Particularly when Mihashi tilts his head, pushing into his touch. Though he seems perfectly collected (or, at least, he hopes so), the tension between them is palpable, and Abe can’t help the way his gaze drifts down the line of Mihashi’s back.

With a sigh, he claps his hand to his own face, then steps back over to his cubby. With his back to Mihashi, he slides his pants down his legs and folds them neatly, standing clad only in his boxer-briefs. He doesn't even glance back before he finishes stripping down, immediately grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist and padding towards the showers. "I'll go in first, then," he calls back to Mihashi, his voice echoing as he disappears.

Once in the showers, Abe sighs again and rubs his fingers across his forehead absently. The tiles are still damp, chilly beneath his feet as he makes his way to the second shower down. He pauses to listen for Mihashi before he turns the tap on. The water is delightfully warm as it spills down over him, flattening his hair down against his head. Normally, the room is crowded with the other boys laughing and joking as they wash up after practice, but empty as it is, it’s eerily silent, and Abe’s beginning to feel unusually exposed. Squaring his stance, he rejects the feeling entirely as he soaps up his hands.

He’s mostly through washing himself when he sticks his face under the spray once again, drowning out all noise but the rush of water. He shakes his head as he pulls it out from under the spray, then turns to the side, letting the water pour down the side of his neck and across his back, clearing away the rest of the soap.

There’s a tiny noise from behind him.

He looks back over his shoulder to see Mihashi peering at him from just around the wall.

Eyes half-lidded, Mihashi’s gaze trails up Abe’s body, his lips parting on a soft breath. Even though he’d been somewhat expecting it, Abe has to suppress the urge to shiver with the knowledge of being watched like this. Instead, with his hair sticking wetly to his forehead, he stares blatantly back at Mihashi. Who turns beet red, giving him a stricken look, then drops his gaze.

Abe watches him steadily, waiting for him to look back up. Mihashi hesitates for a moment, biting his lip...and then ducks his head down, shuffles most of the way back behind the wall. Abe’s eyebrow twitches; _does he honestly think he can sneak off and pretend like nothing happened...?_

Evidently realising how stupid that would be, Mihashi’s eyes flick to his face, and then he slowly edges out from behind the wall. The corner of Abe’s mouth twitches; Mihashi’s making absolutely no attempt to cover himself or maintain any sort of dignity whatsoever, apart from one shaky fist pressed pointlessly against his stomach. Abe’s gaze flicks down, but he averts his eyes with feigned casualness. Unnecessarily, though: Mihashi’s thoroughly occupied examining the line of showerheads. With an internal sigh, Abe turns so he’s half-facing him, waiting.

Finally, Mihashi looks at him out of the corner of his eye with an anxious little smile, and says, “H...h...h...hi??” As soon as he’s caught his eye, Abe smiles as pleasantly as he can muster and waves him over. Cheeks pink and eyes wide, Mihashi’s smile becomes a little more confident. Taking a tentative step towards Abe, he dips his head down shyly, but keeps his eyes on him. Abe makes sure to keep smiling, keep looking friendly, particularly when Mihashi very obviously remembers he’s completely naked and starts looking a little panicked. And apparently nearly forgets to stop walking. Abe has to push down a bit of alarm himself, wondering if Mihashi will just keep going until he smacks into him. But he does stop, close enough that the water bouncing off Abe’s body collects on his skin, goosebumps rising all across his chest and shoulders. Mihashi stares up at him, looking ready to bolt.

Abe wasn’t expecting him to come in so close, but instead of moving away, he intentionally bumps his shoulder against Mihashi’s. His wet skin slides easily against Mihashi’s and, in the tense atmosphere, the sensation is electric. As is Mihashi’s little inhale, and the way he stares dazedly at the point of contact. Abe’s plastered on smile warms to something more sincere and when he speaks his voice comes out rougher than he had intended.

“Be sure and soak in the tub when you get home, alright? I don’t want your legs to get stiff.” Mihashi nods enthusiastically, then looks away, blushing, absently rubbing his shoulder. It’s touching, how pleased Mihashi is by such simple contact, how obviously he thrills to it. Abe’s heart beats hard, until the sound of it fills his ears. He glances down at Mihashi’s neck and the drops of water beginning to slide down past the hollow of his throat. Slowing his breathing, he forces himself not to follow their path further, and carefully locks his gaze back on Mihashi’s face. Which is good, because Mihashi’s already turning back to him, blinking slowly.

Abe holds his breath, but after a second, Mihashi swings around and wanders over to the next shower. He peers up dazedly at the showerhead as he turns a knob. And then dances away, yelping, when the icy spray hits him full in the face. Abe snorts inelegantly. Mihashi scrubs the back of his hand across his face, groping blindly for the hot water tap, instead encountering Abe’s wrist as reaches to turn it on for him. He draws his hand slowly back to his chest, giving Abe an unnecessarily awed look which he steadfastly ignores as he carefully adjusts the temperature until it’s perfectly warm.

Hopefully, Mihashi’s not about to make another embarrassing pronouncement. Abe tips his own head under the water one last time, then drags his fingers back through his hair before shutting off the spray. “Alright. See you in a bit,” he says.

“S-s-see? See you,” Mihashi calls after him as he pads away from the showers, water dripping down from his hair to trail cold down the back of his neck, down the curve of his spine. Though he doesn’t look back, he knows by the steady sound of the water that Mihashi stands still, watching until he’s out of sight.

He scoops up the towel he’d left just outside and rubs it over his head a couple times before tucking it around his waist and returning to the club room to get dressed again. By the time Mihashi emerges, Abe is sitting on the bench with his bag resting neatly at his feet. He’s long since thrown his towel into the basket and he’s fully dressed, even wearing his jacket. He yawns as he turns to drowsily look at Mihashi. Then stares.

With one towel draped over his head, he’s clutching another loose and low around his shoulders and looking peculiarly pleased about something. Short as he is, the one he’s got around his shoulders still only barely reaches past his upper thighs; without thinking, Abe glances down to where the towel ends, blatantly eyeing the curve of Mihashi’s thighs. But he catches himself, and makes a show of yawning again as he shifts his stare to where Mihashi’s peering out from underneath the towel on his head...now looking oddly morose.

He decides to ignore it. “Hey,” he says, nodding in Mihashi’s direction, “Be sure and dry off properly before we go out again.”

“I will.” Mihashi shrugs an arm free to rub down his still-dripping hair, clutching the towel around himself one-handed. “Abe-kun w-w-will...will wait for me?” Maybe due to residual nerves, but probably mostly because he’s doing it stupidly, he’s not doing a very effective job of drying his hair, mostly just slowly pulling the towel down over his face.

“I’ll wait.” Abe watches with growing confusion as Mihashi fumbles with the two towels: he tries to keep hold of the one around his shoulders and use both hands to dry his hair. It doesn’t work very well. He loses his grip, and the towel slips off him. Grabbing after it, Mihashi manages to catch a corner, clutching it against his chest, not hiding much of anything. Abe blinks at him; at this point, he can’t tell if Mihashi is _trying_ to keep himself covered or trying to show off as much skin as possible. Probably the former, judging by the horrified look Mihashi shoots him from under the towel.

But, whatever Mihashi’s expecting to see, Abe meets his eyes with a stare that’s sleepy and warm, only a slight crease between his eyebrows revealing anything. It seems to reassure Mihashi, enough that he can return to drying himself off, turning away, a bright flush spreading down his nape. Slowly, Abe slides his hands to the edge of the bench, gripping it with increasing pressure until his knuckles start to whiten.

Mihashi dresses quickly, thankfully. Despite his tiredness and impatience, Abe can’t help feeling a little disappointed as he tugs a light blue t-shirt down, covering his back and the dimples just above the waistband of his pants.

Mihashi grabs his shoes, then suddenly looks over his shoulder with a mysteriously startled expression and a renewed blush. Abe blinks at him, then pointedly looks away.

With his embarrassment, his irritation grows, and he quickly rises from the bench and slings his bag over his shoulder. “Come on, Mihashi. Let’s get a move on; it’s already dark out and we still have to bike home.”

“Mm!”

His plans for the evening have left him at a loss, though his suspicions have been quite clearly confirmed. Abe muffles a yawn with his hand and stubbornly keeps his stare fixed on the door, his shoulders now set with obvious impatience. Mihashi pulls his laces tight, dumps his towels, then follows Abe out into the cool night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to parse out what’s where at Nishiura is sometimes frustrating. I can’t imagine they don’t have showers (I think other students and teachers would object to the kids on sports teams coming to class smelling…like teenagers do after vigorous exercise.) I believe the boys talk about showering. But where they are? QUESTION MARKS. It would SEEM to make sense for them to be in the same building that houses the clubrooms and the pool, rather than the school proper or the building with the “apartment” room that the boys also change in sometimes. I’m imagining here that there’s an entrance off the inside wall that leads to a common hallway and the showers/bathrooms. I also…I guess they have Western-style showers at Nishiura, according to us. I COULD rewrite it, but it’s a little harder to sexily show off ur Hot Bod to ur crush while ur squatting on a stool. If I ever get around to writing a (very bad) letter to Higuchi-sensei, these are the Important Questions I will be asking. XD
> 
> And thus concludes me talking WAY too much about a detail no one cares about...


	2. (Crushing) Transparencies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anything under the "Crushing" heading is me writin solo.

There isn't much space on the desk with all three of their lunches spread upon it. Tajima nudges a crumpled wrapper out of the way so he can lean in on his elbows, leering. “Okay, so I had this friend in middle school—”

Izumi smirks. “Yeah, sure. ‘Friend.’”

“Hey! It was! If it was me, I’d say!” With a shrug, Izumi concedes the point. “Anyway, listen, _you’ll_ probably like this one. He had this MASSIVE crush on our class rep. And then in summer, we got to go on a field trip to the beach—was awesome!—and all us guys’d changed and were heading into the water...and then the girls start coming out. And he turns and sees her—I guess her swimsuit was from the last summer, and she got boobs since then, ‘cause it didn’t really fit anymore. And she was trying to fix it, like this,” Tajima mimes helpfully, “Whoooooole lotta bouncing! It was GREAT! He goes bright red, gets a nosebleed, boner, the works! And he just sprints into the water, which is _ice_ cold, so we figured he’ll be fine in a moment, but he stayed there for like half an hour! Every time he went to get out, he’d look over at her, and then just have to run straight back in. Never lived it down.”

Cheeks pink, Mihashi watches the two of them laugh as he finishes a mouthful of pear. He swallows, then asks, “That’s how you…?”

“Eh?”

Mihashi looks down, hunching his shoulders a little, already wishing he hadn’t said anything. “If you… I-if…have…crush…”

“What, ‘cause you jump in the ocean and freeze your balls off?” Tajima collapses back in his chair, cackling.

Izumi levels a spectacularly unimpressed look at him that Tajima completely fails to notice. “Shut it. Yeah, I guess so?” He drinks slowly from a juice box, staring at the ceiling meditatively.

Mihashi eyes him for a moment, but it doesn’t seem like he’s about to volunteer anything more, so he just looks down at his pear somewhat forlornly. _I should know about stuff like this. But I never really had anyone to talk to about it before? And it just...hadn’t really been relevant up until now. Up until Abe._

When he thought about the word “crush” before, it had seemed sort of intrinsically necessary that a girl be involved, so he hadn't considered his feelings in that light. _But it seems maybe that isn't the only criteria for a crush...? There might be other things?_ Things that were just about how you felt around the person. There’s something comforting about the possibility of having a specific word for all this. Make it real. Make it official. Not just another way he’s not getting along right with other people.

He looks up finally to find Izumi giving him an appraising look. With one last noisy suck, he finishes his juice, then continues. “There’s other stuff, too, though, because you can pretty much get turned on by anyone who’s hot, if that’s how you’re wired... But that’s not the same as a _crush_. You have to wanna talk to them, too, wanna be around them all the time, and...I don’t know...you have to want to do nice stuff for them, get into what they like, and li...”

“Also getting boners, though. It’s a pretty good sign.”

“THANK you. Very helpful.” Izumi punches Tajima’s shoulder. Mihashi feels a slight spike of adrenaline. _No, this is a thing friends do, they roughhouse sometimes. They’re laughing, it’s okay._ “But anyway, that’s the sort of stuff means it’s a crush,” Izumi finishes, then leans towards Mihashi, eyebrows raised. “So, does that mean _you_ got a crush on someone?”

Mihashi blushes again; somehow, he doesn’t really want to say, though he’s not sure whether it’s because it’s a guy, or specifically because it’s _Abe_. For once, he’s grateful he blushes so often, because maybe they’ll just think it’s nothing special. _Gotta say something, though. Some kind of half-truth?_ “I don’t…think…so??” Not very convincing. “Never…did… _that_ didn’t h-happen…” It’s true, he’s never been in exactly that situation... Mihashi finds himself suddenly imagining Abe in a swimsuit. Abe in a swimsuit from last summer that’s a little tight, a little too small. Wet. Clingy. Mihashi flushes even darker.

Izumi squints at him.

“He’s talking about my story.” _Thank you, Tajima-kun._

“Oh.” Izumi sighs. “Well, again, it’s not like you HAVE to get a boner before it’s a cru—”

“It IS kind of important!”

“ _Some_ of us think about stuff other than dicks, you know!”

“Yeah, RIGHT!”

The two of them devolve into another tussle that eventually results in Tajima jumping away from his chair as it clatters loudly to the floor. At which point a classmate primly points out that isn’t it the time when they normally nap (and shut up, she mutters, not QUITE under her breath). She’s right, though, so they tidy up and settle down at their desks with heads pillowed on arms to get what little rest they can.

* * *

Neither of them says anything more to Mihashi about it, not even during practice. He’s relieved, because he’s not sure how long he’d be able to hold out if they really started trying to get it out of him. Relieved enough to have mostly forgotten about it by the time he’s home and eating dinner. Until his phone chirps at him from his pocket, making him drop his spoon.

                                      [09:17pm]

                                      [From: (unknown sender)]  
                                     [Subject: hey!!]  
                                     [You totatly DO have a crush on someone,  
                                     don’t you? (¬_¬)]

  _Oh no._

                                      [09:36pm]  
                                     [From: (unknown sender)]  
                                     [Subject: teeeellllllll meeeeeeeeee]  
                                     [I’m not gonna tell anyone  
                                     promise, pinky swear and EVERYTHING!!!]

                                     [09:36pm]  
                                     [From: (unknown sender)]  
                                     [Subject: (oh yeah)]  
                                     [(this is Tajima, btw!!  
                                     (シ_ _)シ)]

 

[09:43pm]  
[From: Mihashi Ren]  
[Subject: Re: (oh yeah)]  
[I don’t have a  
<\-- <\-- <\--  
[I do, it’s Abe  
<\-- <\-- <\--  
[DO NOT!!! I bet YOU do!  
<\-- <\-- <\--  
[How do you have my nu  
<\-- <\-- <\--  
[I think I do?  
But it’s kind of a different situation from normal.]

[09:44pm]  
[From: Mihashi Ren]  
[Subject: Re: (oh yeah)]  
[you’ll probably think I’m strange if I tell you.]

 

                                     [09:45pm]  
                                     [From: Tajima-kun]  
                                     [Subject: haha I already do]  
                                     [So don’ tworry about it! （＞ｙ＜）]

                                     [09:49pm]  
                                     [From: Tajima Yuuichirou]  
                                     [Subject: ...but in a nice way ._.]  
                                     [Wait, it’s someone embarrassing, right?  
                                     Is it Chiyo-chan? Or Momoe?  
                                     Bet it’s Momo-kan. It’s GOTAT be her!!  
                                     Thats not even embarrassing, man!  
                                     Hm...]

 

[09:51]  
[From: Mihashi Ren]  
[Subject: It’s not either of them]  
[I guess it’s someone embarrassing?  
I think? I don’t really know!  
I don’t know about this stuff!]

 

                                      [09:52pm]  
                                     [From: Tajima Yuuichirou]  
                                     [Subject: Re: It’s not either of them]  
                                     [“Don’t really know”?  
                                     Now I’m REALLY curiuous.  
                                     You might as well tell me,  
                                     I bet I ca figure it out on my own  
                                     pretty quick. (^ω^)]

 

[09:54pm]  
[From: Mihashi Ren]  
[Subject: please don’t try to guess]  
[please I don’t really want anyone to know  
I don’t want that person finding out somehow  
I’m scared they’ll hate me for it]

 

                                     [09:54pm]  
                                     [From: Tajima Yuuichirou]  
                                     [Subject: Re: please don’t try to guess]  
                                     [HM the PLOT THICKNENS.  
                                     Wouldn’t they just be happy?  
                                     And anyway, you think I’d tell them? Geeeeeeez.  
                                     Gonna hurt a guy’s feelings. (((￣へ￣井)]

 

[09:55pm]  
[From: Mihashi Ren]  
[Subject: I’m sorry!]  
[I’m really sorry  
it’s just  
I really can’t tell you]

 

                                     [09:57pm]  
                                     [From: Tajima Yuuichirou]  
                                     [Subject: Re: I’m sorry!]  
                                     [Don’t worry about it.  
                                     You’re stil not doinga good job a making me stop wanting to know!  
                                     But I’ll leave it, k?]

 

Which is exactly what Tajima intends to do. Definitely.

For a few minutes.

 

                                      [10:00pm]  
                                     [To: kou]  
                                     [From: (unknown sender)]  
                                     [Subject: Yoooooo]  
                                     [So Mihashi totally DOES have a crush onsomone.  
                                     But he wouldn’nt tell me!  
                                     You gotta help me figure out who!]

 

[10:03pm]  
[From: kou]  
[Subject: tajima?]  
[im not helping you do anything of the sort  
if he doesn’t want to tell you  
drop it]

 

                                      [10:02pm]  
                                     [From: freckled dick]  
                                     [Subject: Spoilsport.]  
                                     [Come oooooooooon. It’ll be fun!  
                                     I’m not going to tease h im about it or antything.  
                                     And I know you wanna know too!!]

 

[10:03pm]  
[From: kou]  
[Subject: what are you five?]  
[why do you even care so much O_O  
also thats total bullshit  
you will DEFINITELY tease him]

 

                                      [10:05pm]  
                                     [From: short&loud]  
                                     [Subject: Yes, I am. ヾ(@⌒ー⌒@)ノ]  
                                     [Will not!!  
                                     I wwas texting him about it,  
                                     and he said some weird stuff is all.  
                                     Aren’t you even a LITTLE bit curious??]

                                     [10:07pm]  
                                     [From: attention span of a gnat]  
                                     [Subject: Iiiiiiiiizuuuuuuuumiiiiiiiiiii!!!]  
                                     [Come oooooooooon!]

 

[10:09pm]  
[From: kou]  
[Subject: Re: Iiiiiiiiizuuuuuuuumiiiiiiiiiii!!!]  
[if i tell you ill help  
will you let me go to sleep?]

[10:09pm]  
[From: kou]  
[Subject: "weird stuff"?]  
[???]

 

                                      [10:10pm]  
                                     [From: yuu-chan~~<3]  
                                     [Subject: yeah probably XP]  
                                     [Yeah, I dunno if I can explain.  
                                     And also he said it wasnt Chiyo or Momoe

                                     and I don’t know what other girls he knows, so...]

 

[10:11pm]  
[From: kou]  
[Subject: good im fucking exhausted]  
[its probably just one of the girls in our class  
or maybe that one w/the beauty mark from  
class 4 that like EVERY dude has a crush on]

 

                                       [10:12pm]  
                                     [From: srsly who cares]  
                                    [Subject: Re: good, i'm fucking exhausted]  
                                    [That’s booooooring.  
                                    If it was, I’m pretty sure he’d tell us.  
                                    Maybe it’s someone from bacl at Mihoshi?]

 

[10:13pm]  
[From: kou]  
[Subject:(≧∇≦)]  
[mihoshis an all boys school you dolt]

 

                                     [10:13pm]  
                                    [From: complete idiot]  
                                    [Subject: so what?]  
                                    [And he could of had a crush on a teacher there!!]

 

[10:14pm]  
[From: kou]  
[Subject: he coulda had a crush on the entire baseball team who cares]  
[not our business  
go to bed tajima]

 

                                     [10:14pm]  
                                    [From: freckled dick]  
                                    [Subject: XP]  
                                    [FIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE you’re really lame.]

 

[10:27pm]  
[From: kou]  
[Subject: wait]  
[when did you get my phone number?]

* * *

 

Once more, Abe glances out the window at the activity on the field, trying to pretend he didn’t just hear Mizutani’s question. They’re supposed to be working in small groups on word problems, but as per usual, their group has finished early. Apparently, this means chat time to certain people: Mizutani pokes his arm with the eraser end of his pencil. “Hey. I’m serious!”

Abe stops his surreptitious scanning of the field below, frowning over at him. “Yeah, I’m sure you are. It’s still a stupid question.”

“It’s _not!_ Right, Hanai?” Mizutani swings his pencil in an arc to prod Hanai in the shoulder.

Hanai bats it away. “Hey, why’re you pulling _me_ into this?!”

“I’m _trying_ to talk to my _classmates_ , here, like a _normal_ and not…weirdly antisocial person. Not “pulling you into this”.”

“Fine. You want my opinion? Abe’s right, it’s a dumb question.”

Mizutani pouts at them both; Abe ignores him, glancing out the window again. Class Nine are now huddled next to the goal posts and listening to a lecture from the teacher. With his tawny hair, it’s easy enough to pick Mihashi out, even without Tajima bounding around him as though they hadn’t been running drills for the past twenty minutes. Izumi swats his shoulder, jerking his head in the direction of the teacher; Abe’s pretty sure from his pose that Tajima sticks out his tongue.

_And HIS body language…_

Abe studies Mihashi: he’s stiff, sure, but his back is a little straighter, shoulders not quite so hunched, hands not drawn up so protectively. He blinks over at Tajima, clearly bewildered but not cowering. _God, thinking about it that way, it just seems like he hates me…_ _How are people SUPPOSED to act around crushes? It IS normal for them to be nervous, right?_ He looks back at Mizutani and Hanai (who is now rubbing at his forehead, glasses on the desk).

“No, okay, but…like, at what point is it not allowed anymore? If you’re just flirting? Or if you ask them out? Can you ask out the other person if you don’t get a—”

“Look, is this a real problem you’re having, or just a hypothetical?”

“Uh…hypothetical??” Mizutani couldn’t be a more transparent liar if he tried.

“Then it doesn’t matter.” Hanai starts to slip his glasses back on, then stops, eyeing Mizutani. “Don’t mess with girls, man. They’re _vicious_.”

“So you’re saying I should go for Ch—” Mizutani flushes a spectacular shade of red, staring fixedly at their paper. _Lucky for you, I don’t think either of us care._

Abe looks out the window again. _His breathing returned to normal pretty quickly. That’s good. He’s sweating a lot, though. But the weather’s getting warmer so I suppose it’s to be expected. Did they bring water with them…?_ He scans the sidelines. _I can probably trust Izumi to remind him when they go in… Maybe during the break, I could run by a vending machine, grab him something— NOPE. Nope, nope, nope._ Abe stares down the back of Izumi’s head, willing him to take care of this; after a sec, Izumi turns and glares back at the building.

A hand waves in front of his face before prodding his cheek. “Heeeeey, earth to Abe. What’re you looking at with that grumpy face?”

Abe turns back to stare blandly at Mizutani. “Just trying to will myself into an out-of-body state so I can escape your “hypothetical problem”.”

Mizutani flicks his shoulder but grins at him. “Hey, if you could do something like that, you could spy on the girls’ locker room!”

Abe squints at him. “Yes. That is _definitely_ how I wish to spend my time. You got me.”

Mizutani ignores him, turning back to Hanai. “Hey, you know if that stuff’s real? You think you could actually do it?”

Hanai sits back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “I’m pretty sure it’s bull. And even if you _could,_ you shouldn’t go perving on girls like that!”

Mizutani scowls. “So then what’s the acceptable, Hanai-seal-of-approval way to check out girls?”

“How about you just _don’t?_ ”

“What, you tryin’ to claim them all for yourself?”

Abe turns back to the window. Now, some members of Class Nine are setting out some pylons at the teacher’s directions. Mihashi’s standing a little to the side, listening raptly while Tajima whispers something to him. One of the boys setting up, tall and blond, waves at Mihashi as he draws nearer; Mihashi completely fails to notice. Abe gives him a sympathetic grimace. _At least I’m not the only one having difficulties with him._

Mizutani leans in conspiratorially, elbowing Abe. “Y’know, I overheard these two senpai from another club talking about how the captain of the baseball team is super hot!”

“WH— _what?_ Don’t…” Hanai groans, dropping his face on his arms. His ears turn red.

“There, there,” Abe pats his head, “it’s a hard life, being lusted over by senpai.”

“At least _senpai_ leave me alone and don’t steal my goddamn food…” Hanai sits back, wrinkling his nose when he sees the smudged state of his glasses; he pops them off and cleans them on the hem of his shirt.

“Wait, so like, you got a kouhai crushing on you?” Mizutani leans towards Hanai, waggling his eyebrows at him. “From middle school? She cute? Wait—stealing your food… You must’ve gone on a _date_ with her! Woooooow, _slick!_ ”

Hanai stares at him in pained consternation, takes a breath as if to answer, then just shuts his mouth.

Abe raises an eyebrow at him, crossing his arms on the desk. “Already going for the younger women, I see.”

Hanai chucks an eraser at him. “Stop making crap up! I’m _not_ dating _anyone_.”

“So you prefer older women?”

“Wh— _NO._ ” Mizutani gets himself whacked on the back of the head.

He is, however, uncowed. “What about you, Abe? You like ‘em older or younger?”

Abe stares him down so his eyes don’t slip betrayingly to the window. “Isn’t it best if they’re close to you in age? That way, you’ll have a more similar schedule and you’re less likely to have incompatible goals.” Both Hanai and Mizutani give him disgusted looks. “What?”

Hanai sighs, rubbing between his brows. “You are possibly the _least_ romantic person I have _ever_ met.”

“ _Seriously._ If all you’re gonna think about is convenience, you might as well date _Mihashi_.”

Some portion of his brain is relieved that, instead of blushing, he feels blood drain from his face, but most of him is busy scrambling for the right thing to say, the right way to laugh it off.

Hanai, fortunately, comes to his rescue. “It’s not exactly convenient when he’s completely terrified of him, is it?” Perhaps ‘rescue’ is not the correct term.

“Okay, but Mihashi’s terrified of _Ai-chan_ and pretty much his own shadow, so. And he _does_ look up to Abe a lot…”

Hanai leans his cheek on his fist. “Yeah, but that’s not the same thing as _liking_ someone.”

“Look, could we maybe just… _not_ be having this conversation? It’s weird.” Abe leans heavily on the desk, rubbing between his eyes.

Hanai raises his head. “Whoa, dude, don’t be homophobic.”

Abe blinks at him for a second, not entirely certain he’s being serious. _Didn’t expect that from you, but good to know._ “I’m _not._ It’s just weird because,” he waves his hand in the direction of the window a half-second before it occurs to him that he shouldn’t, “ _Mihashi_.” _This entire thing is a total pain in the ass._

With a shake of his head, Hanai concedes, “Fair enough.”

“Okay, so he’s kinda awkward, but Mihashi’s still pretty cute, isn’t he?” Abe wants to strangle Mizutani. “I bet once we start kicking butt in _real_ games, he’s gonna get some fans!”

“Good. Maybe he’ll get a more useful ego.” Hanai side-eyes Abe. “If that’s okay with _you_.”

“Eh?” Even a second later when he parses out what Hanai means, it still makes him feel squirmy inside; this is too close to personal. He makes himself shrug. “So long as he still listens to me, I don’t give a damn.”

Another set of disgusted looks from them. “ _Utterly_ unromantic.” Mizutani half-stands, hands cupped around his mouth as if to call out the window. “Mihaaaaaaashi, you can do _so_ much better!”

Abe grabs his shirt, yanking him back down. “Screw you.” He’s pleased that none of the edge he feels comes out in his voice.

Their teacher claps her hands, noting that perhaps if people have the leisure to be getting up out of their chairs, it’s time to submit answers. Abe tries not to sigh in relief.

His eyes are drawn again to the window, find Mihashi’s back, the curve of one ear. His shoulders are shaking, one arm raised and a fist curled in front of his face. Abe’s alarmed up until he catches sight of Izumi’s grin, takes in Tajima, doubled over and clearly cackling.

Something pops in his chest, something bright and wistful, painful.

_I want to see that._

_I want to make you feel something other than fear._

_Something other than “looking up to” me._

Abe swallows a groan, giving in and burying his face in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry about feelings, Abe (I am not in the least bit sorry).
> 
> Me writing texting: oh man this is so much fun I love writing these I wish I could write NOTHING BUT 8D Me formatting texting: just kill me now. put me out of my misery.
> 
> Izumi seems like the type to have people entered under nicknames/snarky descriptions. Meant with the utmost affection, but… The only exception is likely Mihashi, who gets his name entered properly. Izumi’s not always gentle, but he doesn’t take chunks outta people who can’t handle it.


	3. (Crushing) In Which A Lot of Confusing Feelings Happen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a quick lil WARNING for some non-graphic wound care and also NSFW that involves light medical kink??

Mihashi’s sitting in bed, doing his best to slog through the last of a history chapter before sleep. Mysteriously, the discussion of Taishou-era economic developments fails to engage him.

He finally gives up, dropping the book off the side of the bed and then leaning back against the headboard. He draws in a deep breath, then drags the blanket up in a messy bundle, hugging it against his chest with a little wiggle, then leaning his chin on it and beaming to himself. _A crush. I have a crush._ Even the word makes him feel all squiggly inside. It makes it seem fun, exciting, bigger than before.

He’d never quite made the connection between the confusing mess of desires in him whenever he thought about or was near Abe and the idea of a ‘crush.’ He just...hadn’t really thought about _any_ of it. But in the days since that lunchtime conversation, he’s thought about it a lot. But he almost wishes he hadn’t. Because the one thing that Tajima and Izumi failed to mention about crushes was that they also _hurt_.

Really, it’s hurt for a long time, but it was one of those dull, back-of-the-mind aches, not this new sharp pain, so much worse now he's paying attention to it. And he’s never been through this before, has no defenses against any of it, not the tears that mostly come only after he’s shut his bedroom door behind him, not the directionless hope leading up to each practice, not the crushing disappointment that inevitably follows, not the twist of excitement in his belly whenever Abe looks at him, touches him. Even when he’s angry at Mihashi, even then, even cowering on the ground, he still feels that little thrill of _want_.

But ever since the day they stayed late after practice, it feels like Abe’s been avoiding him. There were a couple of moments that day, and others, too, when it felt like maybe there was half a chance he felt some of the same things that Mihashi did. And he’s spent a lot of time lately thinking about Abe holding his hand and telling him he liked him, wondering if maybe he meant something a little more than just as friends. But he _knows_ he didn’t mean it that way, _couldn't_. All those times he thought he caught Abe blushing, touching him a little more than seemed necessary, looking at him a bit too long, they were just him seeing what he wanted. _Abe’s just trying to be nice to me because that’s what he has to do. He probably only stares at me because...because he thinks I look stupid! Or he’s watching in case I mess something up._

A terrifying thought hits him: maybe Abe KNOWS he has a crush on him? _No WONDER he’s avoiding me...!_ Kicking his feet in miserable frustration, Mihashi pulls the blanket over his head. _Abe probably thinks I’m totally gross and awful. There’s no WAY he’d like someone like me back, even if we weren’t both guys. It’s impossible that he’d ever want to date, to do…other…things…_ Mihashi pulls his knees up against his chest, curling up. _Even if he DID want to do any of that, even just a little, he’d probably think it was a waste of time, and annoying, when he’s ALREADY stuck with me for most of the day._

He shouldn’t want anything, shouldn’t expect anything from Abe, when he spends so much time and effort on him already.

But he does.

At least here, in his room by himself, he can imagine that he can have whatever he wants. Can imagine he’ll get to practice in the morning and things will be different, that Abe won’t yell, that he’ll tell him he likes him, that he’ll kiss him and hold his hand but _different_ and say they can be boyfriends now. He can fantasize about doing things together, even going on dates. Well, sort of. Everything he knows about dates seems...not like stuff Abe would like??

Relaxing his hold on his legs, Mihashi examines the underside of the blanket thoughtfully. _Maybe we could...eat...food? Would Abe like going to...going to an amusement park? Maybe just a regular park. What are you even supposed to do at a park? Okay, imagining going out together is hard._ Especially when they can’t even get through one conversation without him doing something wrong and making Abe mad. _If we went out, maybe I should just not talk? That would be better.  
_

_Or do anything._

_Maybe just not go at all._

And now he’s back to feeling awful, pulling the blanket back down and shoving his face into it, tears prickling his eyes.

It doesn’t last too long, though. There’s things he’d MUCH rather think about than how hopeless this is. And besides, he does need to go to sleep at some point. Mihashi turns out the lights, dragging his feet on the way back to bed. He flops into bed on his stomach, yanking the blanket over himself so it’s mostly straight, smushing his face into the pillow.

He’s thought up a lot of scenarios for how things might start. The excitement of a big win leading to an unplanned confession; ending up locked in the supply shed together; bumping into each other on a day off and getting caught in a sudden rain shower, which would of _course_ necessitate running together to whoever’s house was nearest. And possibly needing to take off their wet clothes. Ever since his birthday, he’s been particularly fond of imagining that that day had ended with Abe returning alone to claim some forgotten item. Perhaps...perhaps catching him jerking off. A bit flushed, Mihashi hugs the pillow tight, cheek pressed against it.

But none of those particularly appeal right now. Something more comforting, soothing, maybe...

> ~~I twist my ankle~~
> 
> ~~get hit by a foul~~
> 
> ~~suddenly throw up~~ (No. _Gross_.)
> 
> I get hurt in a way that would make Abe upset but not too upset or actually be bad so I couldn’t pitch but still means that I have to go to the nurse’s office right away? A scratch. I scratch myself on something! And it looks pretty bad, bleeds a lot. And Coach is busy, ~~but makes Abe take me~~ so Abe _volunteers_ to take me. It’s my ~~hand~~ arm, but maybe down towards my wrist? Near my right hand, so he’s really worried! And he holds my arm the whole way back to school to keep pressure on it.
> 
> We get there, but it’s late, and there’s no one around (but somehow the room is still open).
> 
> Abe says, “ ~~That’s inconven~~ I won’t leave you here alone! I’ll look after you myself, because you are very precious and stuff, because of being the pitcher.” And then he holds my hand, and looks at me very seriously, and says, “And you are precious to me too because of that and maybe also for other reasons.”

Mihashi squishes his face into the pillow, blushing.

> He makes me sit down on the bed, and goes and washes his hands and gets the first aid stuff, then brings over a chair and sits in front of me. He sits _really_ close, so it’s easier to reach, but our knees are in the way. He...he has to have his legs apart, so my knees are between them, and they...they kind of touch his thighs. But he doesn’t even mind! ~~He takes my hand, pulling my arm so he can see it, and starts to clean the scr~~ Actually, he puts on gloves first? So he doesn’t get more blood on him, because he DID just wash his hands, and he’d probably think that was a little yucky.

Rolling onto his back, he closes his eyes. He can imagine the way the gloves, the room would smell and how it’d mingle with Abe’s scent, imagine the heat of his fingertips as they press into his skin, even through the latex.

> Abe unwraps an alcohol wipe, then holds my arm firmly, but he’s really careful when he cleans the scrape. It…it stings! And I try to pull my arm away, but his grip is too tight.
> 
> ~~“Quit it. The more you squirm around, the longer this’ll~~ “I know this hurts, but ~~suck it up~~ bear with it; I’ll be done soon.”
> 
> I do my best to stay very still, so I’m not making things harder for Abe, and he can tell I’m trying really hard, and maybe... Maybe he smiles at me a little? And...and says, “That’s better. Good job.”

Mihashi half-covers his face with one hand. Even though he’s alone, even though the words are just made up in his head, it makes him blush, makes his heart beat a little harder, because it's a little bit real: Abe _does_ tell him stuff like that. And even if it’s not what he wants to hear most from him, it still feels really, _really_ good every time Abe does. He giggles, sliding his free hand down to his thigh and slowly gripping the fabric of his shorts tight.

> The scrape itself is all clean, but the rest of my arm still has dirt and blood on it.
> 
> ~~“Here, you take care of this while I get the bandage ready~~ Abe holds my arm more gently and wipes away all the mess. It doesn’t hurt so much anymore, just feels good. He uses a fresh wipe to quickly clean the scrape again, then gets the bandages and wraps them around my arm carefully, so they’re not too tight but they’ll stay put. ~~“Okay, all done, that’s~~ No! Even when he’s done, he doesn’t let go of my arm! Maybe he’s checking to make sure I’m not scraped anywhere else…? (Even though he would’ve noticed while he was cleaning it...) He turns my arm over, turns my hand this way and that, pushes my fingers apart so he can check there. But…I guess it’s pretty obvious there’s nothing else wrong, so eventually, he lets me go. Stands up, and... maybe he’s blushing, now? Looking away. Says, “Please...please be more careful in future...” (Actually, he’d PROBABLY say something more like “You’d better not do something stupid like that again.”) And then...and then...

Truthfully, at that point, Abe would likely make them both go back to practice or just leave, and that’s no fun. He still hasn’t gotten to anything good yet, and, for reasons he doesn’t entirely understand and can’t be bothered with right now anyway, he doesn’t want to move this out of the nurse's office.

> So, Abe’s still holding my hand? Maybe...maybe I bled enough I’m feeling kind of woozy?? Yeah! I’m kind of light-headed, and...we’re probably close enough... suddenly, I slump forward against his shoulder! Abe lets go my hand, catches me, holds my shoulders. For a moment, he just lets me stay like that, with my head resting on his shoulder. Edges closer on his chair, so...so he’s almost hugging me against him, and so his legs press against mine. He'd be so warm...

Mihashi's mind drifts to the feel of Abe's hands, the few times he's bumped into him or gosh, when they ended up next to each other for meditation, that one time Abe had held his hand cushioned on his thigh. A soft breath punches out of him.

> But then Abe clears his throat and says, “You look really pale. You should lie down.” I nod, looking up at him; our faces are really close, and it...almost seems like we’ll kiss! But at the last moment, Abe turns away and pushes me upright.
> 
> I start to climb onto the bed, ~~and pull down the covers~~ but before I can pull down the covers, Abe grabs my jersey! There’s blood on it, so ~~he tells me to take it~~ ~~he makes me take it off~~ he takes it off me. He comes and kneels on the bed right in front of me, and unbuttons it really slowly, then tugs the hem out of my pants and slips it off my shoulders, down my arms. He has to lean closer, has to put his chin on my shoulder for a moment. Or...or maybe he doesn't have to, but he does anyway! And...and my undershirt has to come off, too, in case it's bloody as well?? He pulls it untucked, and his fingers touch my skin under my shirt, brush up my sides as he takes it off.

Thinking about it, Abe seems to come talk to him a lot when he’s changing shirts... A delightful shiver runs up his spine. _It’s probably just a coincidence, though. There’s no way Abe would have any interest in looking at me when I’m half-naked. No way he’d ever think I was attractive like that_. Mihashi determinedly focuses back on the fantasy before he can make himself upset again.

> Then my shirt’s off, and he’s really close for a moment, his chest and his arms around me radiating warmth in the coolness of the room. He leans back, gets up, is about to leave, but...but...but it’s actually super cold in the nurse's office! (Even though it’s the middle of June...) And I'm shivering. A lot. And all there is on the bed is the sheets and one of those scratchy thin blankets.
> 
> ~~“Right, I’m gonna go. Someone’ll come later with~~ ~~“I’ll come back with a fresh shirt~~ “Right, I have to leave to do important baseball things. Oh wait. You’re cold,” he says, taking my hand.
> 
> “I’m...It’s okay, you go ahead,” I reply, glancing away, “I’ll be alright.” But I’m really pale, and still shivering, so Abe knows I’m just trying to be stoic.
> 
> He squeezes my hand, then rubs my arms to warm them. “No! You might get really sick from being cold, somehow?? ~~That would be annoy~~ That would make me very unhappy! Because it would mean you couldn’t come to practice.” He looks at me super earnestly, but then he looks embarrassed (because of feelings maybe?), and suddenly gets up and crosses to the other side of the room. I get worried, except he comes right back over because he just went to get me a shirt, the kind hospital patients wear.

He’s not entirely sure that they would have those at school, but it’s not like anyone’s going to tell him different, and also it seems...oddly appealing.

Very appealing.

All he’d had in mind at first was cheering himself up, just imagining Abe being nice to him, taking care of him, without any yelling or anything. But it’s quickly becoming apparent this won’t be one of the fantasies that ends with a confession and a kiss. Mihashi eyes his phone, unwilling to look at the time; he really should try and go to sleep as soon as possible... He shivers, pressing the heel of his hand into his thigh, full of sudden tension. He’ll probably go to sleep easier after he’s jerked off, though, and not like it takes THAT long...

Still, no need to rush. This one’s good.

> “Here, ~~put this on~~ I’ll put this on you.” Abe kneels on the bed with me again and makes me put my arms through the sleeves. Even though it’s pretty loose, his fingers keep brushing against my skin as he does up the buttons. ~~“You might as well put on the bottoms, too, because that looks incredibly stupid with baseball pants.”~~ ~~“It is totally fine wearing that witho~~ (No, actually, that’s a good idea...) “You’ll be more comfortable if you put on the bottoms too.” Which, of course, he also brought over. Before. With the shirt. Obviously.

With a small frown, Mihashi bites his lip, debating whether he’d want Abe to put those on, too. It seems a little...awkward. But he concludes that it might also be pretty hot. His hand strays closer to his dick, already getting hard.

> Abe makes me stand up, and he stands too, and then...then undoes my belt. ~~He looks at my face~~ (too embarrassing) ~~looks across the room~~ (that’s just odd) looks down at what he’s doing (yes, _good_ ). He has to slip his fingers under the waistband of my pants when he undoes the button, kind of pulls on them, makes me step closer. And now he looks at my face while he undoes my fly, and his face, his mouth is right there. So ~~I kiss him~~ (too scary) I look at him, and he can just _magically_ tell that I want him to kiss me, so...so he does! (But also because HE wants to.) He kisses me! And it feels like...like...something really nice? (Abe is probably good at kissing, so it would feel good.)
> 
> While we do that, he tugs my pants down off my hips, down as far as he can reach. He pulls back for a moment. “I want to kiss you but I also want to finish taking your pants off, because I guess I am a little attracted to you or something, and it would be nice if you were kind of naked for a minute. So I’m going to do that first, and then we can kiss more.” I nod, and he crouches so he can slide them down, and maybe he touches my legs a little while he does it. He doesn’t care about dumb stuff like making sure they're folded up properly, just puts them aside and grabs the pyjama bottoms and holds them ready for me to step into. This time, he DEFINITELY touches my legs as he pulls them up, and my hips, too. Maybe...maybe even my butt??

Mihashi’s hips tilt back incrementally, pushing his butt against the bed, then hitch forwards. The clingy drag of the fabric over his dick is a little uncomfortable, but wonderfully teasing; he makes a muffled sound, then tilts his hips again.

> Then, he stands, and...and kisses me again! And... But I’m still pretty light-headed? Swaying a little, so Abe makes me get into the bed and pulls the blankets up for me. I’m still shivering, though.
> 
> ~~“What the hell, why are you so cold still?~~ “It is totally believable that you are still cold, but also concerning. Even though there is a blanket and I made you put on these pyjama-type things, it will not be enough! _I_ will keep you warm!” He gets into the bed too, and makes me get on my side so he can spoon me, curling his arm around me. Then, he rubs my chest, not too hard but enough to warm me up.
> 
> But after a little while, his hand slows, and then... Then, he’s kind of just touching me, just sliding his hand over my chest, my sides.

Seeing stuff happen in his mind’s eye is not the same as having any idea whether it actually feels good or not. Suddenly curious, Mihashi runs his hand lightly down his side. It kind of tickles, in a way that’s sort of nice, but...he can only imagine it’d tickle worse if someone else was doing it...

> ...So Abe’s only gentle enough that it feels nice. He doesn’t tickle me because he’s not being mean. He...keeps touching me, on my...my parts, and... Strokes down to my hips, then slips his thumb just inside the waistband of my pants...

This might be better. Tugging his shirt up, he tries it out, pushes his thumbs under his waistband, then experimentally slides them from his hips around to meet in the middle just under his navel. It’s a little tickly, too, but the idea of Abe even _slightly_ putting his hand in his pants is still unreasonably hot. He wonders if there’s any possible way he could get Abe to just... _do_ that, only that. Like if Mihashi’s shirt got pulled untucked during a game, and, for some reason, Abe _had_ to help him with it... _That wouldn’t be wrong, would it?_ Mihashi slides a hand down to press against his dick through his shorts. _Maybe remember that one for some other night..._ Breath coming faster now, he rocks his hips to rub against his hand.

> Suddenly, Abe grabs my hips hip and pulls me back against him. So my...so my butt is pressed against him. And...and I can feel he’s...he’s hard!
> 
> “Are you still cold? ...Or am I getting you hot?” he asks, and it’s in a low, sexy kind of whisper, not yelly or mad sounding at all.
> 
> “I’m not cold anymore, because of the things you’re doing. But also I could get hotter if you keep doing those things?? Which would be good, so I won’t get sick from coldness which might be a thing.” I turn my head to talk, so then Abe’s lips are brushing my cheek when he answers.
> 
> “Okay, I will keep doing them then.” And then he kisses me on the cheek (but in a sexy way, not like someone’s aunt). He slides his hand up to cup the side of my face and ~~turns my head back and kisses me~~ (oh dear) and then pushes himself up on his elbow so he can lean ~~on~~ ~~over~~ on me and kiss me on the lips. And it’s like a million fireworks go off, or something? It feels really good, is the important part, even BETTER than the first time, Abe kissing me, tugging back on my hips and rubbing his dick against me. He stops kissing me so he can say, “I’m glad you got hurt we ended up here, because I _want_ you. Because I like you. A lot. Like, in _that_ way, just so we’re clear.”

Cheeks burning, Mihashi presses his face against his shoulder; even _thinking_ something like that feels incredibly presumptuous. But it also makes him feel all squirmy-happy inside, so he decides to keep going with it.

> “I want you too, because I also like you a lot, Abe-kun.” I tell him, turning on my back so I can look at him. He looks extra hot right now (probably because of feelings and stuff).
> 
> “Good. Now we are boyfriends.” (Is...is that how that happens???) Then he kisses me for a while, and touches me a lot on my chest and stuff, which is somehow not so scrawny and small as right now. He even...he puts his hand up my shirt, touches my bare skin? It’s not like before, when he just touched me a little taking off my shirt. It’s on purpose, his touch firmer, as though maybe...maybe he even likes doing it a little. _Wants_ to. To touch me.

Shoving his face even harder against his shoulder, he makes a quiet, happy noise and smiles to himself. This is almost as good, almost as unlikely as Abe saying he likes him.

And these things...these, he can also do to himself. Hike his shirt up to press his hands close against his skin, sliding them up his ribs, over his chest, and brushing past the little bumps of his nipples before stroking down to rest his hands flat on either side of his navel, fingers pushing down into the hollows of his hips. His mind drifts, recalling the feel of Abe’s fingers resting there, gripping his hip. Mihashi slides his hands down just a little farther, the tips of his fingers slipping under the waistband of his shorts. _If Abe had his hands there..._ Mihashi hiccups out a soft cry, tilting his hips with little jerky movements and pushing his hands down, under the waistband of his underwear.

> Abe ~~sticks his hand down~~ slides his hand into my pants so he can cup my dick through my underwear. I’m hard, too, and...and he likes that? It makes his dick harder! Which he tells me, and then maybe kisses me again.
> 
> Maybe it’s okay for me to touch his dick, too? So I do that, I touch his dick through his pants while he starts rubbing mine. But...but he wants to do more! He puts his hand in my underwear, and then he puts his hand on...hand on...
> 
> Abe says, “Wow, I like touching your dick. It is very nice.”

Even _he_ can tell that’s really lame.

> Okay, so Abe doesn’t say anything. But he DOES get his hand on my dick, starts jerking me off. (Except wait, the pants would be in the way...)

...Like his shorts are right now. Wriggling around, Mihashi starts shucking them off, kicking the blanket down the bed, but then stops abruptly with his legs drawn up and his butt off the mattress, the shorts still bunched at the top of his thighs. He kind of wants to keep imagining wearing the hospital outfit... And that’ll be easier if it still kind of feels like he’s got pants on in real life... Makes it a little easier to tell himself something like this might ever happen. _I could...I could just leave them pulled down like this..._ Settling back on the bed, he presses his hand next to his dick, then, unable to resist any longer, curls his fingers around it and starts stroking it steadily. He shudders, sighing out a relieved sound, tucking his other thumb under the waistband of his shorts.

> Abe pulls my pants and underwear off, but not completely off, just down around my thighs like this. And THEN he starts jerking me off. We kiss lots more, until...until Abe wants to take his pants off too! Because he’s going to let me try jerking him off too! But he takes them all the way off, his shirt as well, because he’s just wearing practice clothes, and that’s not very exciting. And then I can see _all_ of him.

He’s glad they’re on a team together, glad that he gets to steal glimpses of Abe naked in the changeroom and showers almost every day, so he can imagine him _perfectly_. And those precious times when he gets to look for more than a few seconds... Mihashi moves his hand faster, panting out a rough breath, remembering how he spied on Abe in the showers. _I probably should’ve just gone in, that day..._ Yet somehow, he’d found himself watching the way the muscles of Abe’s shoulders and back shifted as he washed, tracing the path of soap bubbles down his chest and stomach and into the trail of dark hair leading to his dick, watching all that soap wash away, shining rivulets all down Abe’s back and into the cleft of his butt... Letting his eyes slide up from Abe’s spread legs to the elegant angle of his hips and back as he turned to look over his shoulder... Thinking about getting caught staring like that makes Mihashi’s stomach twist with shame, but it doesn’t make the memory any less hot.

> Abe ~~lies down~~ ~~sits~~ ~~stands???~~ (how do people do this stuff??) lies next to me, so we can touch each other’s dicks and I can see his face and his body and the hospital pants down around my thighs and _everything_. He tells me it’s alright if I touch him, that I can touch him _anywhere_ , not just his dick. I put my ~~hands~~ hand on his chest, or maybe his back, or... Back seems good. Because then, I can…I can slide my hand down onto his butt!! And I don’t do any of it wrong, so it makes him happy!
> 
> Abe tells me, “That’s good. I am getting very turned on and stuff.”

Mihashi curls forwards, hips jerking up, biting his lip to quiet a cry. He gasps, clutching at the waistband of his shorts, hand slipping over his thigh and tugging the fabric down with it.

 _What would Abe's face look like?_ He's seen some porn, seen the kind of faces people make. They often look...more like they're in hideous pain, but imagining Abe making faces like that... Imagining it was because of something _he_ was doing... Mihashi whimpers, arm slapping across his burning face.

_Would Abe's dick feel like mine? Is he bigger or smaller? How would he move?_

_Moving..._

> Abe lets go of my dick and grabs me, pulling me around on my side. We're so close, and it's difficult for me to even keep jerking him off, but he kisses me really hard like he's getting super excited so I don't mind at all. He tells me, "You're doing so well, I am maybe going to come soon," then he kisses me more. His hands...his hands...well, _one_ of his hands is on my butt! Because...because he _wants_ to touch me when he's...when he's... And he's still got gloves on! So it feels kind of weird but really, really nice, especially when he squeezes.
> 
> "I'm going to come on you because I don't want to move. And also possibly that's kind of hot? Even though it'll be messy. And--" Abe stops talking (probably because of being really turned on) and just shoves my shirt up. The tip of his dick touches my skin every time I stroke him, and it's kind of gooey, and then...and then... Abe makes some kind of really sexy sound?? Because he's coming! All over my belly and my hand, and he's gone back to grabbing my butt, and we kiss, we kiss...

Mihashi arches, swallowing his cry, his toes spreading tensely for a second before he relaxes.

> Abe is really happy because I did a good job. Which is probably a big surprise, so it makes him even happier? And...I got hurt, and all, so...so he's being really nice...so he wants to give me a...a blow job! He looks right in my eyes and says, "I want to make you feel as good as you made _me_ feel, which was _really_ good just in case you're still not sure," then he kisses me again. And then... _then_ , he slides down the bed until he's right near my dick...

Mihashi shivers, squirming, digging his heels into the mattress. He lets go of his dick long enough to spit into his palm, then wraps his hand around it again. If Abe _did_ do that, _did_ suck him off, then he’d have _his_ spit all over him. It’s kind of gross, and...kind of…really hot?? Trying to get better purchase as he fucks into his hand, he spreads his legs, encountering the resistance of the fabric around his thighs. He twists his hand in his shorts, pulling them tighter until they cut into his skin, breath coming in rough, uneven gasps.

> Abe grabs my dick with one hand, and...and even though he's done, he still touches me with the other. But mostly then...then he puts his mouth on me. And it feels _wonderful_ , like...like... SOME kind of wonderful thing? Like jerking off, but _better_ , even better than it would be if Abe was doing it. (Abe'd probably be very good at giving blowjobs and stuff, because he's amazing at pretty much everything.)

Except for the hand he’s using to work his dick, Mihashi’s still, now, tensed with his toes spread and butt almost completely lifted off the mattress. Words fall away from his mind, and he’s just left with the image of Abe curled at the foot of a bed with his hand on Mihashi's hip, Abe staring up at him, Abe with his wide lips parted to take Mihashi's dick in, Abe reaching to grab his butt and pull him deeper, Abe with his broad shoulders and leanly muscular arms and the curve of his bare back on display. Abe gorgeous and sweaty and maybe, _maybe_ a little bit happy to do this for him, Abe watching Mihashi's pleasure build just as he'd watched him, Abe grabbing the pyjama pants and holding them tight until he can't move.

Mihashi lets go of his shorts to shove his fist against his mouth, muffling another cry as pleasure pulses through him. He trembles, just holding his dick loosely as his hips jerk, come spattering messily. 

Once he catches his breath, Mihashi gropes around beside the bed for some dirty laundry to clean himself up, then chucks it back on the floor. He’s warm and sleepy, smiling at the ceiling as he wriggles back into his shorts. For the moment, he can ignore miserable reality, can stay in this blissful haze and not think about how nothing like that will _ever_ happen, pull the blanket up like a shield against the ache inside him. Rolling on his side, Mihashi drapes his arm across his stomach, pretends it’s Abe’s, pretends he’s being hugged, until even that thought fades away into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have...I have now spent a LOT of time thinking about the roots, foci, and extent of Mihashi's Nurse Thing. (¯◇¯;) I didn't go super in-depth with it here, 'cause HE has no clue at this point. We'll leave REALLY playing around with it for later... *grins*
> 
> I don't think I've EVER had so much fun writing dialogue.


	4. (Crushing) Top-Secret Matchmaking Mission START!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Tajima and Izumi launch their (perhaps ill-advised) quest to discover the identity of Mihashi's crush, and the audience begins to suspect this will be one of Those Fics where literally everyone is kind of really queer.
> 
> There is some slight homophobia/internal-not-good-feeling at the end of this. I'm mostly mentioning it just to say that this is about as bad as this series will ever get. Dive-Wing and I decided early on that we didn't want to write a story about It's Hard To Be Queer—plenty of us already know that story perfectly well, and these guys have enough of a hard time as it is and don't need to deal with anyone being awful to them about sexuality on top of that. While there will be some exploration of individuals having complicated feelings about their own queerness, and homophobia DOES exist in this universe...yeah, 'lol ew??' is about as bad as it's gonna get coming from other characters, and that only minimally. And tbh on Hamada's part it probably had as much to do with being young, dumb, and caught off-guard as anything.

[11:56am]  
[To: Izumi]  
[From: Yuu]  
[Subject: The TOP SECRET THING!!]  
[Hey, so remember what we were talking about the other day?  
I wanna staaaaaart!!]

             [01:36pm]  
             [From: Izumi]  
             [Subject: DONT TEXT IN CLASS YOU IDIOT]  
             [youre lucky my phone was on silent  
             ESPECIALLY dont text about dumb shit]

             [01:36pm]  
             [From: Izumi]  
             [Subject: im not doing it anyway]  
             [whatever it is youre planning]

[01:37pm]  
[From: Yuu]  
[Subject: Re: i’m not doing it anyway]  
[Ok that's nice.  
You remember about it, thogh, right?  
It won’t be anny fun if it’s just me!  
And besides, if we figure it out,  
maybe we can help!]

             [01:40pm]  
             [From: Izumi]  
             [Subject: dont IMMEDIATELY look at your phone (ノ_<)]  
             [or answer so quick  
             mihashis not THAT dumb hes gonna notice  
             youre not very stealthy are you?  
             how exactly are you expecting to spy on him?]

             [01:41pm]  
             [From: Izumi]  
             [Subject: actually]  
             [hes pretty dense tbh he probably wont notice]

[01:42pm]  
[From: Yuu]  
[Subject: Did I wait long enough? XP]  
[Well if you’re so smart about this stuff,  
that’s why I need ~YOU~ to help me!!]

             [01:46pm]  
             [From: Izumi]  
             [Subject: barely]  
             [anyway you keep saying “help”  
             how exactly will snooping be HELPING him?]

[01:50pm]  
[From: Yuu]  
[Subject: It will!]  
[Idk, like matchmaking and stuff?  
We’ll talk to whoever it is,  
see if they like him back,  
and then we drag him over and mkae him confess!  
Then BAM, Mihashi gets a girlfriend!]

             [01:53pm]  
             [From: Izumi]  
             [Subject: uhhhhh ok]  
             [thats great i guess??  
             definitely not horrifically traumatic for him  
             anyway im gonna nap now]

             [01:53pm]  
             [From: Izumi]  
             [Subject: also]  
             [still not helping you]

* * *

Later that afternoon, Izumi looks up from stripping off his batting gloves to find Tajima descending upon him and grinning at him with a concerning amount of self-satisfaction. He opens his mouth to ask what he wants, but he’s pretty sure he knows, so he just waits, glancing further down the field to where Mihashi’s throwing pitches to Suyama in the cages. It’s sort of irritating how Tajima just...assumes things, like that, despite what he keeps telling him, Izumi’s going to help him with his ill-advised investigation. Even more irritating because he’s probably right.

Eyes shining with excitement, Tajima leans in to whisper, “Guess what!”

“What?”

“I got his _phone!_ ”

“What.” Izumi slaps at Tajima’s hands and pockets, half-expecting him to be holding it openly.

Tajima huffs out an annoyed sound. “No, I already put it back of course. Geeeeeeez.” His grin returns. “He puts people’s names in suuuuuuper formal! Even ours! Even his MOM’S! Like, Abe’s—”

“Were you actually DOING something, or...?”

“I just wanted to get a number off it. Remember his friend from Mihoshi?”

“...He _had_ a friend?”

“That Kanou guy! Y’know, with the forkball?” Tajima then rattles off contact info; Izumi stares at him and then shakes his head.

“Am I supposed to remember that? What’d you want it for, anyway?”

“We’ll ask HIM! Maybe Mihashi tells him stuff? But!” Tajima continues, looking exceptionally pleased with himself, “Also. There was one name in there, no honorific, and it was a GIRL’S name!”

“Did you read their texts?” Izumi’s intrigued, despite himself.

“Ran outta time. Besides, that’d be a LITTLE rude, don’tcha think?” Tajima frowns at him disapprovingly.

Izumi opens his mouth to retort, but then catches Tajima’s cheeky grin. Rolling his eyes, he leans, bumping his shoulder against Tajima’s. “This isn't the time for stuff like that. ...Don’t say anything too weird to that guy, okay?”

“Yeah, of course not!”

“Actually.” He’s going to regret this. “Wait until I’m there, and we can text him together.”

* * *

[Subject: Hey, this is Mihashi’s griends!]  
[D’you know if Mihashi's got a boner for anyone?

“Give that to me!” Without waiting, Izumi snatches Tajima’s phone, huffing out an irritated sigh. “You made a typo. Do you even _read_ what you write before you send it?” He deletes the message, starting over.

“You can still understand it, right? So it doesn’t matter!” Tajima flops backwards on the floor, staring up at his bedroom ceiling. After a moment, he nudges Izumi with his foot. “What’re YOU gonna say, then?”

Izumi hands him the phone:

[Subject: Hi, we’re friends of Mihashi’s]  
[Do you know whether there’s anybody

“Hey! That’s the same as what _I_ wrote!” Tajima says, kicking his feet against Izumi’s shin.

Izumi grabs his ankles, holding him still. “Yeah, except it’s less RUDE!” Tajima sticks out his tongue, so Izumi lets go of one ankle and tickles the other foot with a lightly sadistic grin. And almost gets kicked in the face by a squawking and laughing Tajima. “Anyway, we can’t be too direct, or he won’t tell us. He’ll think we’re bullying Mihashi.”

“If we’re all roundabout, won’t he be MORE suspicious?”

Izumi considers for a moment, but then Tajima starts jabbing his toes into his leg again, making it REALLY hard to focus, and so he’s half-lying on Tajima’s legs and getting kneed in the chest when he hears a short chime.

He looks up slowly, scowling. “Tajima. Did you just. Send something.” Tajima just grins and holds up the phone:

[09:12pm]  
[To: Kanou]  
[From: Yuu]  
[Subject: Hi, we’re friends of Mihashi’s]  
[From Nishiura!!! Tajima and Izumi.  
Do you know whether Mihashi’s got  
a crush on someone?  
We promise we’re friendsand not going  
to bully hmi or anything.  
P..S ply us again soometime!  
I wanna hit your fokball more!! \\\\(⌒▽⌒)/]

It’s not too terrible, all things considered.

Tajima squirms impatiently “The typos that time are your fault, just so’s you know. Wanna get off my legs now?” Izumi sits up with a long-suffering sigh.

They talk about other things for a while, videogames and teachers and the relative merits of nearby corner stores, and then Tajima’s dog wanders in carrying a well-loved stuffed toy, which keeps them occupied until Tajima’s phone chimes at them again. Eagerly, they (and the dog) look at the phone.

             [09:35pm]  
            [From: Kanou]  
            [Subject: not that i know of...]  
            [he doesn’t really talk to me much these days.  
            (yell at him about it for me!!)  
            he’s never told me about having a crush on anyone before, though.  
             maybe ask ruri??  
            also YEAH except next time we’ll KICK YOUR BUTTS.]

They look at each other. “Who the hell’s Ruri?”

“That was the girl’s name I saw! ...I guess that probably means she’s not his crush.”

“Ask.”

[09:36pm]  
[From: Tajima Yuuichirou]  
[Subject: Re: not that i know of...]  
[Who’s Ruri?  
We’ll yell at him for you! XD  
And LIKE HELL YOU WILL! (≧Д≦)]

            [09:39pm]  
            [From: Kanou Shuugo]  
            [Subject: Re: Re: not that i know of...]  
            [his cousin??  
            he was living with them when he went here.  
            man, doesn’t he talk about us?  
            what an ass.]

[Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re:

“You’re not funny!” Izumi laughs anyway.

“Am too!”

[09:40pm]  
[From: Tajima Yuuichirou]  
[No Subject]  
[He’s hatd to get information out of sometimes.  
He’s pretty shy around us still. :/

I'm workin on him though!!  
But okay, we’ll ask her!  
Thaaaaaaaaaaanks!!!]

Izumi frowns when Tajima presses send. “Shouldn’t we ask him for her number?”

“Naw, I remember it.”

“You sure?” Tajima nods, already typing a number in. Izumi presses his mouth into a thin line, squinting at him. “... _What_ was your score on the last math test, again?”

“Eh, that stuff’s boring! Anyway, what should we ask her? Same thing?”

But Ruri doesn’t have any more information than Kanou, so they have to leave off for the night.

* * *

            [09:42pm]  
            [To: Mihashi Ren]  
            [From: Shuu]  
            [Subject: HEY]  
            [WHAT THE HELL, MIHASHI?  
            YOU NEVER TALK ABOUT ANYONE FROM HERE  
            WITH YOUR NEW TEAMMATES??  
            YOU SUCK.]

When Naoe comes to wake her son up the next morning, she finds him curled up on his couch with the blanket pulled over his head. His pillow, though, is still on his bed...with several textbooks piled on top of it.

Without waking Ren, she carefully pulls aside the odd pile. Only to find his phone underneath.

She stares at it for a minute with a puzzled frown, remembering hearing some...noises the night before, but then just sighs, replaces the items, and goes to prod her strange sleeping offspring awake.

* * *

It’s a bit hard to spy on someone when they basically spend all their waking hours together. Or maybe that makes it _too_ easy, but whatever the case, all they really find out over the first week or so of observation is that none of them have lives, Mihashi least of all.

He doesn’t even talk to anyone off the team unless they speak to him first. Well, actually, that kind of goes for most people _on_ the team, as well. And he doesn’t really talk _about_ anyone who’s not on the team, either, so that’s not a useful indicator. In fact, mostly, he talks about Tajima and Abe. Izumi proposes just asking him outright again but Tajima waves him off with an assertion that it would be ‘no fun’. Izumi’s beginning to question his idea of ‘fun’.

At least watching Mihashi is entertaining, watching him flail and hide and blush and flip out all over the place. Except when _certain_ people react in a way that pushes Mihashi from ‘humorously skittish’ into ‘choked with terror’.

Izumi starts to wonder if maybe they should be looking for someone who Mihashi _doesn’t_ get flustered around, but that would be...no one. He’s only slightly less edgy around the two of them. And maybe that’s what’s piqued his interest about all this: Mihashi’s reactions are so genuine and extreme, and it seems improbable that he’d be able to hide a crush on someone. So they’re just not looking in the right place.

But he doesn’t know where ‘the right place’ could possibly be. Mihashi’s life is just baseball, school, and sometimes hanging out with Tajima. And really, not like they have time for anything else. Tajima hypothesizes the existence of a sexy tutor, but they're both fairly certain Mihashi wouldn't hold out on them with such important information, so that possibility, too, is rejected.

He makes Tajima show him the texts where Mihashi confessed at least to HAVING a crush. They...sure do say pretty much nothing useful. Then something clicks.

“No, it’s definitely someone from school!” he says, showing Tajima one of the texts.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, or he wouldn’t worry about it getting back to them. So it’s _gotta_ be someone we at least kind of know.” Izumi rereads the texts, frowning. Words his eyes had skimmed over before now seem more significant, as does Mihashi’s very evident terror of this mysterious person finding out. “...What does he think she’ll _do?_ ”

“Hey, maybe _you_ don’t know ‘cause you only got a brother, but girls can be freakin’ SCARY!”

Izumi shrugs. “I just don’t think some random girl is gonna bully him ‘cause he has a crush on her. He’s too pathetic, if nothing else.”

Tajima raises an eyebrow at him. “That’s...you coulda put it nicer.” Then, he bares his teeth in a fierce smile. “We’d tell her off, anyway, if she was a jerk about it!”

“Yeah...” Izumi answers absently, eyeing the first text again suspiciously. “The hell does “different from normal” mean? What, does he have a crush on a rabbit, or something?”

Tajima snickers, then side-eyes Izumi for a moment before blurting out, “Hey, what about a boy?”

Izumi stares at Tajima, then, looking away, he answers, “I guess so...”

“It makes total sense! A guy might get mad if he found out Mihashi was into him, might, like, try to FIGHT him, or something!" Tajima balls his hands into dramatically raised fists. "But then we’d DOUBLE protect him!”

“...What does that even mean…?” Tajima ignores the question, clearly preoccupied with this theoretical heroic altercation with Mihashi’s crush. Izumi considers what to say next, feeling his cheeks start to flush. “And so...what if the guy likes him back?”

“Huh?”

“Like, ‘cause... I mean, what are we—”

“The plan doesn’t change! Geez, OBVIOUSLY.” Tajima gives him a disapproving look. “It’s still Mihashi, and he still needs our help! Doesn't matter who it is.”

“Well, yeah. Just…just checking.” Izumi examines a distant tree, turning an even brighter shade of pink, staunchly ignoring Tajima’s assessing gaze. He knows better than to think Tajima can’t read him, DEFINITELY knows better than to think he’s not smart enough to put it together.

 _Shit_.

At least Tajima said it first. And he OCCASIONALLY has moments of tactfulness, moments when he’ll back off, and maybe, just maybe, Izumi’s lucky enough that this will be one of them.

Still, he can't help feeling relieved that Tajima's (at least theoretically) not freaked out by that stuff. Not that he should've expected anything else from Tajima of all people (he'd probably just say something about more hot girls for him). Doesn’t mean Izumi particularly wants to talk about it with him. So he gratefully dashes away when Hanai calls for someone to help bring out the pitching machines and then carefully avoids Tajima for the rest of practice. As though that could undo the damage.

Izumi's had himself figured out since second year of middle school, since the day when he'd looked up into third-year Kawano Haruto's eyes while they were warming up before practice and felt his heart skip a beat, felt a sudden shock of pleasure at the intent way he was watching him. Kawano had nice lips that always seemed curved up in a smile and surprisingly powerful hands for a fifteen-year-old, warm on the small of Izumi's back as he pushed him over in a stretch.

After that, he meant to avoid him for a while, but Izumi's never been particularly good at resisting temptation, and day after day would somehow find himself edging nearer to Kawano whenever they were pairing up. It didn't go unnoticed, but he managed to brush it off with a smirk and a teasing assertion that it was because he knew senpai would go easy on him.

It made sense of a lot of things. Not least of all the way he'd suddenly found himself fixated on Hamada when he was eleven. Made sense of how agonising the next year when Hamada had gone on to middle school was—his mother still occasionally mentioned it with a mystified air (and obnoxiously liked to tell other moms, "Instead of the 'terrible twos', Kousuke went through the 'terrible twelves'!") Hamada’s absence DID have the fortunate effect of quelling his feelings. If he's totally honest, it's part of why he gives him such a hard time now. Some way of getting back at him for the misery he caused with his brilliant smile and relaxed charm.

And Hamada was almost the first (and only) person Izumi ever told.

It was on his birthday during third year; his class friends had gone home but Hamada stayed because they didn't get to hang out that often anymore. Hamada was telling him how he should definitely come to Nishiura with all his customary ditzy enthusiasm, and Izumi mockingly said something about, "Yeah, OMG, I hear there are, like, SO MANY hot guys there!"

And Hamada laughed, and Izumi laughed too. But Hamada also said, "Gross, dude," and looked kind of uncomfortable in a way that stopped Izumi from saying anything more revealing. Instead, once Hamada went home and he was pretty sure everyone was asleep, he let himself cry into his pillow, eyes wide open and full of hurt and terror.

Having an older brother had taught him to keep anything marking, anything incriminating close to his chest, lock away anything that could be construed as a weakness. Even if it didn’t _feel_ like a weakness. Because sometimes other people have a way of twisting things on you, turning them into a snare to trap you, trip you, then kick you where it hurts. And so far, no one's mattered enough to make it worth the risk to lay those feelings out. Izumi almost hopes no one ever does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kanou's text to Mihashi is funnier to me than it should be. (^ω^)
> 
> But that got kind of grim at the end... ._. It's tough, being a teenager. Cheer up, Izumi! Everything will be okay! *hugs prickly child* *gets punched in the face* *bleeds on him in a loving oneesan kind of way* *gets punched again*


	5. Can't speak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nsfw warn (and p. much from here on out)
> 
> yo sup sup I keep forgetting to mention but right now I'm busting ass on a couple of secret santa fills, which is why I haven't been generating anything new;;;; BUT it means that come the end of December, there should be some fun stuff coming, and I also got some delightful suyasakamizu PWP in the works for the lovely Nana. :3

It was bad luck drawing Tousei.

Lying in bed the night of the draw, Mihashi’s thoughts spiral in dizzying circles, a terrifying clamouring rabble that leaves him shaking and pulling his pillow over his head.

Even if Abe said they had a chance…

 _Even when he says stuff like that about my pitching…_ The mere recollection of it, of Abe’s hand gripping his jersey tight and the firmness in his voice, leave Mihashi flushing and smiling into his hands. Until reality crashes back down. _It was only to make me feel better so I’ll pitch well, so I won’t give up. Just bolstering the team's spirits There’s so much we’ll have to do… No, that Abe will have to do to get that win. Make up for everything I’m lacking._

_Haruna-san could hold out against Tousei. Abe wouldn’t lose if he had someone like Haruna._

_But instead he’s got me._

Mihashi pulls the pillow against his chest, hugging it desperately.

_It must be so disappointing, especially... Especially if he DOES know about...about the crush... There’s NO WAY Abe could like me back when I'm so weak, so dumb, so useless, so difficult. No wonder he’s avoided me lately._

Mihashi doesn’t sleep much that night. Even the exhaustion from the heavier practice doesn’t help him: the next night, he’s staring at the ceiling until well past midnight. It’s the same the next night, and the next. And the next.

In the morning, Mihashi arrives to practice bleary-eyed, limbs heavy, and _almost_ late. The bike ride here, gasping in crisp, cool morning air, did little to wake him up or shake off his misery. Everyone’s already gathering for morning meditation, and he staggers over and gratefully flops down, eyelids drooping shut for only half a second.

When he opens them, he starts violently: Abe is leaning over to peer into his face, alarmingly close. He didn’t even notice him sit down. For a moment, he thinks maybe he DID fall asleep, and this is some sort of (dubiously pleasant) dream. But it's not, and Abe just backs off, facing forwards again and taking his hand. Still, it makes his heart skip a beat. Mihashi turns his head enough that he can side-eye him curiously with a tiny nervous smile.

When they first started doing this, Abe ended up sitting beside him a lot...but over the last few weeks, it hasn’t happened as much. Hasn’t happened at all, actually. _I guess Abe didn’t want to hold hands with some kind of pervert._ Mihashi bites his lower lip; it’s thrilling having him close again. But also scary: even if he manages not to do anything  _else_ wrong, he’s pretty sure that Abe will get angry if he notices how exhausted he is.

_So much work left to do, and I...I'm like this._

The hard-packed dirt saps the heat out of him, but he still keeps nodding off, drooping forwards only to jerk himself awake again. _Maybe, by some miracle, Abe won’t notice?_ He opens one eye. Nope, he’s _definitely_ noticed. And he’s leveling a look at him that guarantees there’s an interrogation to come.

If nothing else, the adrenaline shooting through Mihashi wakes him right up. He stares intently at the dirt in front of him, breathing hard. It takes him a moment to process Shiga saying something quiet but insistent about keeping their eyes closed.

Shutting them DOES help him relax a little. Even if there’s something bad coming, at least for now he can enjoy the comforting pressure of fingers against his wrist and the warmth soaking into his skin. Abe squeezes Mihashi’s hand again before relaxing his grip so their palms are just cradled together. It feels nice, it feels like maybe he’s not pissed off after all, like maybe everything’s okay. Mihashi’s focus narrows to that point of contact and all it could possibly (but, of course, doesn’t) mean. He can’t even remember who’s on his other side.

It feels too soon when Shiga tells them they can get up. The other boys jump to their feet, pent-up conversation bubbling out of them, but Mihashi takes a little too long to realise it’s time to let go of Abe’s hand, relinquishing it only when the other boy stands. He blinks up at him; Abe meets his eyes with a frown, waiting, clearly not about to let him off.

Lurching to his feet, Mihashi turns, wobbly, looking for an escape route. Before he can find one, Abe claps a hand down onto his shoulder, grabbing a fistful of shirt and dragging him backward.

“Right. We need to have a talk.” Turning Mihashi, Abe leans in to look directly at his face again; Mihashi blanches, making a futile attempt to pull away. “I don’t think you should be practicing like this anyway. We’ll do something less intensive once we sort this out.” Without waiting for a response, he releases him, telling him, “Wait here. I’ll go talk to Momokan,” and takes off at a half-jog.

Mihashi could take the opportunity to flee...except that his legs won’t work. Somehow, that ‘wait here’ has him bound to the spot. Or maybe it’s just him giving up in his exhaustion.

He can’t flee, but he can move his eyes, can follow Abe over to where Momokan’s supervising the team bringing out equipment. See Abe gesturing back at Mihashi periodically, see Momokan nodding.

_He’s telling her EVERYTHING. Telling her that I'm not sleeping like I should, that I'm not listening, not doing ANYTHING I'm supposed to, that I'm not trying my hardest. That my hardest isn’t good enough anyway. Telling her that I won’t leave him alone, that I'm gross and get turned on when he tries to help me stretch, that I misunderstand every little kindness. That I'm a terrible person with a crush on my catcher._

Mihashi sways a little, light-headed, then sits down hard.

 _I'll probably get kicked off the team. No, I’ll get kicked out of school ENTIRELY, and have to go back to Mihoshi_. _I'll never see him again, we'll never play together again._

Pulling his knees to his chest, he presses his face against them as tears begin to flow.

He can tell Abe’s returned to loom over him, and he cringes, waiting for whatever horrible fate awaits him.

But instead Abe just sighs, falls silent for a moment more, then starts, “Hey. Come on up.” His tone is more concerned than angry now, but then Mihashi can’t tell the difference at the best of times. “Coach says it’s okay if we take some time to have a meeting. We’ll go over to the clubroom.”

Mihashi knows he should stand or at least look up, knows he should respond, but all he can do is continue to sob while Abe shifts uncomfortably in his peripheral vision. _I’m probably not going to be expelled, at least...unless they’re just trying to get me away from everyone else before telling me…_

“Get up, Mihashi.” The terse words somehow penetrate through the tears and fog of exhaustion. He chokes out one last sob, and unselfconsciously wipes his face on his knees. Sitting here is only delaying the inevitable, so he lurches his way upright, still unable to look Abe in the eye. With all the resigned solemnity of a prisoner awaiting execution, he waits for him to tell him what to do next. Abe frowns, lingering indecisively in front of him a moment. But he just turns, beckoning as he leaves the field and picks up his bike, Mihashi trudging mutely after.

The ride seems a lot longer than normal. Mihashi watches Abe’s back miserably, dropping his eyes every time he shoots a look back over his shoulder at him. But Abe doesn’t say anything, not even when they put their bikes away and head to the relative privacy of the clubroom. Mihashi pulls the door shut when Abe tells him to, then vaguely wanders a few steps into the room, unsure what to do, still with the vague hope of escape.

He freezes when Abe rounds on him with his hand on his hip, fixing him with a direct and none-too-happy stare. A fresh wave of panic hits Mihashi, and he can’t move, can’t look away, can’t even imagine escaping.

“Okay. Speak up. What’s going on?” Abe demands, already sounding fed up. Mihashi opens and closes his mouth but gives up trying to answer pretty quick. And Abe’s not done, anyway. “This is like the training camp all over again. Is something keeping you up at night?” His voice is level, but there’s a strained note to it that’s frightening just the same.

They’re alone, there’re no helpful teammates to intervene, nowhere to hide in this suddenly far-too-tiny room.

“Ah...I...I...” he begins, but falls silent, looking anywhere but Abe’s face. Abe’s barely contained irritation is like a physical force pushing at him. “I...there’s... No...thing...” That's not true, that's a lie, it's that there are too many answers, too many things all trying to crowd out of his mouth at once. Some of which he can never, ever say. Mihashi glances at Abe; his jaw is clenched, pulling his mouth into a flat line, and his eyebrow twitches ominously. He _can't_ say anything now, Abe’s _already_ mad…

His shoulders hit the wall before he even notices he’s stumbling backwards.

Abe exhales a breath that quivers with frustration before he slowly grinds out, “Look, I _know_ something’s wrong. Just _tell_ me; I’ll listen.” Mihashi can see he’s trying hard, trying not to get mad at someone so obnoxious; just another way he makes more trouble.

_I don’t deserve that kindness. I'm the worst. I'm the worst, but I can’t admit that, can’t tell Abe why._

“C-can’t sleep.” What can he say that won’t make things worse? Words are starting to spill out of him anyway, and he can only hope he doesn’t say anything he shouldn’t. “When I...I saw...ha-Haruna-san... I...no good. And...and Tousei! Abe-kun...Abe-kun keeps s-s-supporting...for the team.” Tears prick his eyes, and he ducks his head so Abe won’t see, one hand clutching at the front of his jersey. “But may...maybe better if I...if I wasn’t... Too much...Abe-kun wastes ti-ti-time... If Abe- kun...better pitcher...if...Haruna, then we...then...beat...”

“ _What?_ ” He shouldn’t have said anything. “What the hell are you _talking_ about? I  _told_ you I like your pitching!” Each time Abe’s voice peaks in volume, Mihashi flinches. He can feel his knees start to buckle as Abe steps closer, reaching for him.

 _He’s going to hit me. He’s going to hit me and I deserve it for being so horrible, for lying, for having these stupid feelings that make me want to lean forward and press my face against his chest even though that would just make him hate me more_.

Abe’s eyes bore into him. He’s clearly waiting for some kind of defense, some kind of explanation, but Mihashi has nothing. Abe grates out a rough noise, hands slicing through the air and leaving Mihashi quaking. “I fucking _promised_ you I wouldn’t get injured or sick for the next three years! We’re—” Abe cuts off, shakes his head, then continues, “You’re still stuck on Haruna? You’re _not_. _Like_. _Him_.”

“I...I know! I _know_ I’m not like... I know.” And it’s not like he doubts Abe’s conviction, just…it seems like it must slip off the warped glass of Mihashi’s self without catching hold. “A-Abe-kun said that...said...but...” He can’t hold himself up any longer, slides down the wall onto crumpled legs. Both his hands now twist in the fabric of his jersey, head hanging low. “I’m...no good...I...”

“I want to catch for YOU!” Abe shouts, slamming his hands against the wall far above Mihashi, making him cry out and cover his head.

But the expected blow doesn’t come, just the sound of Abe’s ragged breathing as he leans over him, hands pressed to the wall.

He's terrified, but just the same Abe’s words make his cheeks flush hot with pleasure. A little bit of happiness rises in Mihashi but immediately guilt twines around it, sucking it back down. He has to say _something_ , has to respond somehow, has to thank Abe for his kindness. But Abe’s tight breaths keep him silent. He’s already made him furious. He can’t say anything more, it’s too risky. He’ll say the wrong thing, and Abe’ll hate him for sure, and then he doesn’t know _what_ he’ll do.

But he has to speak, has to show that he’s understood, that he’s grateful Abe still wants to catch for him.

_Can’t speak._

_Have to._

_Can’t, can't, can't. It’s too scary. Too scary.  
_

Dull-eyed, Mihashi watches his arm drop into his field of vision as though it’s someone else’s, hand hitting the floor with a quiet slap. It creeps forward until it’s beside Abe’s cleat. Lifts. Hesitates, trembling, then rises enough to fist in the loose material of Abe’s pants.

Abe twitches.

Willing himself to let go, Mihashi waits in terrified silence. He hears Abe’s hand slide off the wall, and he thinks...maybe...he feels its warmth near his head... But nothing happens. The anticipation is torture; his chest won’t expand, he can’t get air. Abe IS going to hurt him. Or worse, leave, never want anything to do with him ever again.

Ignoring the frantic directions from his brain, Mihashi’s fingers stubbornly tighten.

Abe grates out an incoherent frustrated noise above him, making Mihashi flinch, want to cover his head again. But there’s no second impact against the wall, no strike comes.

Instead, Abe drops into a crouch in front of him, shoves into his space and slides his hands to the sides of Mihashi’s head almost as if he was going to grind his knuckles in, but instead, instead, just buries his hands in his hair. It pulls, and Mihashi finally gasps in a sobbing breath to fill his lungs with Abe’s smell, not so strong as after practice but still sending him reeling. Even if it hurts a little, it feels good, feels _amazing_ having Abe’s hands on him, not just grabbing his shirt or his shoulder, not so distant and cold. He’s so close, overwhelming Mihashi, carrying him on a dizzying rush. If this is all he gets, then it’s more than enough, more than he ever expected.

Except that no, it’s not.

He’s full of want, aching with it, drowning in it, wanting the way Abe’s crowding in, leaning over too far and all knees and grabby hands, to be a prelude to something very, _very_ different than... Whatever it is he IS doing. Mihashi pulls on his fistful of fabric, voice breaking on a plaintive cry, needing Abe closer even though he’s still choked with fear. He’s part-hard, and that just makes him more scared because Abe will _definitely_ hate him if he finds out. It’ll be  _way_ worse than when they were stretching, to be caught like that when he’s already in so much trouble.

Abe tugs on his hair, gently but insistently tilting his head back. Mihashi doesn’t resist, can’t resist, just clings to Abe, trembling with the effort of holding himself back. He stares back at Abe, cheeks flushed and still wet with tears, bewildered by the low, muffled groan Abe breathes out. Even when Abe presses his face close, noses and foreheads bumping, even then Mihashi still can’t believe that anything good will happen.

A pause, a breath.

And then all in a rush, Abe shifts his hold in his hair, closing the small distance between them and kissing him. It’s a heavy closed-mouth press of lips, but it still blooms tingling heat in him, rips another desperate noise out of him that obscures Abe’s sharp inhale.

Half-open, Abe’s lips slip to press wet against the corner of his mouth, breath hot against his skin. Mihashi doesn’t understand, doesn’t understand at all, doesn’t understand the bright flush spreading down Abe’s neck to disappear into his collar, but he knows he wants more of this gift, as much as he can get because there's no way it'll ever be offered again. He clings his way up to Abe’s arms, not sure how to do this, afraid any screw-up might bring things crashing to a halt, might push Abe back into anger. _Assuming kissing means he’s not angry._ But despite his terror, Mihashi still turns his head, seeking more contact, making soft frantic noises until his lips brush over Abe’s, filling him with another surge of heat. Abe starts, wobbling, thighs trembling, but then slides a hand around the back of his head, holding Mihashi close as their breath mingles.

He’s not really sure how to proceed, terrified he’s going to mess this up somehow. But Abe will know what to do. Abe will take care of him, and Mihashi can do this, trust that he’ll receive whatever clumsy, terrible kiss he can give. The thought is immensely pleasing, and he shivers, presses his lips to Abe’s.

He still half expects him to jerk away, but instead Abe kisses back. They’re not close enough; he slides his hands up to Abe’s shoulders, twisting them in his jersey, pulling himself up on his knees. His fear begins to evaporate in the face of Abe’s flurry of insistent, close-mouthed kisses, noses getting in the way but leaving him panting and delirious just the same. Abe takes advantage of his open mouth, tilting his head to suck at his lower lip, breath rushing out like he’d been holding it and drawing a cry out of Mihashi. His own voice startles him, makes his cheeks burn, but Abe doesn’t seem bothered, seems only goaded on.

He’s not sure whether Abe loses his balance or he pulls him over, but it really isn’t important. His shoulders hit the wall again, Abe sliding onto his lap, spreading his legs to straddle Mihashi, and now he’s _definitely_ going to know he’s hard. Abe holds himself up on his knees a bit, leaving Mihashi panic-choked because he must think he’s gross, he’s a pervert, he’s wanting something that was _never_ on offer. But then their thighs press together as Abe shifts to a more comfortable position, nudging Mihashi’s legs until he straightens out a bit, and then he’s fitted wonderfully into Mihashi’s lap, curling to kiss his temple, his cheek in a way that makes him think maybe he’s not mad about it after all. Maybe it’s okay to be turned on by this, by him.

Abe slides his hand down the side of his neck, slipping under the collar of his undershirt. That tiny breach of his clothing is momentous, the skim of Abe’s fingers over the dip of his collarbone making his hips jerk, seeking more contact. He’s all raw want, not entirely sure what, but whatever Abe will give him at this point is fine. Abe makes an appreciative noise low in his throat, a faint rumble of sound against his skin, lifting his head to watch him, dark-eyed. Each fascinating new sound is a precious indicator that he’s doing okay, he’s doing a good job, even if he doesn’t entirely know what he’s done. Mihashi burns to hear more.

Abe slides his hand all the way under his collar, tracing the line of Mihashi’s shoulder, his other hand gripping the fabric over his back, tugging hard enough that both shirts start to pull free of his pants. This is all far more encouragement than Mihashi needs; he can’t stay still, rocking his hips up to push his dick against Abe’s butt. Tilting his head back, he gives him a hazy stare, licking spit from his lower lip in between heavy breaths. Abe presses his weight down to meet him, eyeing Mihashi’s mouth and then crowding in to kiss him again, hips shifting restlessly. Their movements are jerky, uncoordinated, but it’s still almost too much. Abe sucks his lip again, tentatively sliding the tip of his tongue along it, making Mihashi moan, fingers twitching. He squirms, trying to get better purchase on the floor, somehow improve the already delicious slide of fabric and firmness over his dick. A small part of him wants to draw this out as long as possible but he doesn’t have the self-control to stop.

And if they did, Abe might come to his senses, might realise what he’s doing, and that would be the end of it.

Abe pulls back, breathing a shuddering pant into Mihashi’s mouth before whispering, “...this okay? Good?”

The note of uncertainty in his voice is unfamiliar, confusing, and Mihashi just stares at him at first. But eventually, he manages to pant out, “Y-y-yeah, it’s...” He can’t quite seem to form a coherent thought, so instead he rolls his hips up again. “I...I...it’s too...if a-a-Abe-kun keeps...I’m going to...c-co...c...” It’s too embarrassing to say the word aloud, even now.

Abe seems to understand anyway, replying simply, “Oh,” the word coming out rough and awed. Tensing his thighs, he shifts so the plush curve of his butt presses more fully against Mihashi’s erection, rocking down against him and making him cry out. Rubbing his dick against Abe is one thing, but each time it’s _him_ pressing their bodies together like this is _so_ much better.

Abe yanks his hand out of his collar, eliciting a dismayed cry that ends in a stuttered inhale when he instead slides both hands up the bare skin of Mihashi’s back, tracing the curve of his spine and spreading over his ribs. He’s never really been touched there before, certainly not on his bare skin, and it’s electric, amazing. His own hands clutch almost convulsively at Abe’s shoulders, his body feels stretched tight even as he curls forward against Abe’s chest, gasping for air. His nose, his mouth are full of Abe’s scent, and he could almost cry again, listening to Abe’s ragged breathing as his hands skim over his ribs, stroking his skin, leaving tingling fire in their wake.

Voice still hushed, Abe pants out, “Go ahead. Come.” Mihashi jerks his head up with an frantic questioning noise and immediately Abe’s mouth is on his again. He teases his lip with his tongue but makes no move to press further. It’s not enough, not enough. Especially with Abe’s thighs clenching around him as he rolls his hips, clumsy, but good, so good. Eyes fluttering shut, Mihashi parts his lips and sucks in his tongue, delighting in the spit-slick slide of their mouths and the heavy groan that breaks out of Abe. He presses his palms against Mihashi’s back, moving more smoothly with the leverage it affords, pushing the curve of his butt tight against his dick with each roll of his hips.

He’s going to come, right here, right now, because of Abe, because Abe said he could, because Abe is so very, very kind to him, because Abe’s doing this _amazing_ thing _just_ for him. Mihashi trembles, hips jerking up over and over. Abe breaks the kiss, staring down at him with dark, half-lidded eyes; he can only meet them briefly before squeezing his own shut, skin burning hot. He wants to remember this, _all_ of this, _needs_ to, but he can’t persuade his eyes to open, just clings desperately to Abe’s shoulders as another shiver rolls through him, hot pleasure close behind it. He pants out a last rough cry as his hips twitch and sticky warmth spreads in his underwear.

Losing himself to a slow, warm haze, Mihashi relaxes into Abe’s hold. The hard floor under him, the practice they’re missing, none of it matters in this moment. He wants to stay like this forever. Once they move, break apart, he’ll probably never get this again. But for now...

For now, Abe still kisses him, slower, gentler now, sliding his hands over his back with firm, comforting strokes. For now, maybe he can pretend he's not scared, just enjoy this. Mihashi summons enough energy to curl his arms around Abe's waist, pulling him closer. He won’t miss a second of this, however long it lasts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo... Vessellated and I have roughly planned out the events of this series, and when we started this scene... This scene... These fucking kids.
> 
> They were supposed to kiss. That was ALL. Everybody gets really upset, and then they kiss, aww, how sweet, Mihashi prolly cries or w/e, then everybody gets embarrassed and runs away.
> 
> Except we weren't sure how much cover there was around the field, and there's no WAY Abe would start in smoochin' Mihashi where the rest of the team could see, so we ended up sending them to the club room...
> 
> Mistakes. We made mistakes. *shakes head* Glorious, glorious mistakes.


	6. Overturn

His arms are still curled tight around Mihashi, which is fortunate, because as soon as the tension drains out of him, he collapses, almost dangling from Abe's hold. Abe slowly stills on his lap before kissing his soft, relaxed mouth. He’s shaking with arousal, but he insists on ignoring it in favour of basking in the wake of Mihashi’s orgasm: knowing that he came with Abe in his lap, came _because_ of him is exceptionally satisfying. Broad hands stroking down Mihashi’s back, Abe smirks into his kisses.

It’s also immensely satisfying how he revives in response to Abe's mouth, panting little puffs of air against his lips between each kiss as he lifts his hands laboriously, brushing over Abe’s thighs, hips, before he encircles his waist. Abe shivers, hips twitching forward slightly; his breathing is too quick for his liking, now that Mihashi seems to be somewhat conscious of his surroundings again, so he takes deep, slow breaths in an attempt to get it under control.

Following the incident in the shower room, he’d been left feeling as though he’d misjudged Mihashi in some way. He hadn’t expected him to respond so easily, so eagerly, and had found himself at a loss as to how to proceed without interfering with Mihashi’s pitching. He’s not about to put the whole team at risk because he can’t keep himself under control.

Not that he hadn’t thought about that day, how Mihashi felt under his hands, how he fumbled with his towels after the shower. But he’s done his best to compartmentalise those thoughts, to keep them separate from his daily interactions with Mihashi, keep his distance, and, beyond a few angry outbursts, keep his hands to himself.

So much for that.

Mihashi draws back, and Abe tenses, but he just flops forward to nuzzle under Abe’s chin, resting his head on his shoulder with a sleepy sigh. Gradually hiking up Mihashi’s shirts, Abe slides his hands up, tracing the ridges of his shoulder blades curiously. His skin is soft and warm, warmer than he’s felt before, reassuring.

Because even now, he needs to tread cautiously, make sure he doesn’t push too hard. There’s still a chance Mihashi’s just responding out of some twisted, insecure need to make Abe happy. He can be patient, can wait, can focus on looking after Mihashi until he’s sure.

Palms smoothing out over Mihashi’s ribs, Abe shifts back on his lap, enjoying the press of his slight weight against his shoulder as he slumps against him. His lips press soft against Abe’s neck, almost a kiss. Mihashi is so sweet, half-asleep in Abe’s arms like this, and he doesn’t want to move just yet. But he can’t forget where they are, or the practice they’re missing. With a sigh, he leans his cheek against Mihashi’s head.

“Mihashi. We need to get back. We should get you cleaned up.” Mihashi jumps, banging his head against Abe’s cheek.

He makes a muffled noise of protest, but his ire doesn’t last as he watches Mihashi wilt in front of him. At first just drooping against Abe’s shoulder, then drawing back with head lowered, sliding his arms off Abe’s waist to press loose fists almost protectively against his chest. A perfect picture of misery. It would be comical if it wasn’t so alarming. And aggravating, that Mihashi’s _still_ so quick to assume something's wrong, that he’s _done_ something wrong. Abe scowls, opens his mouth to snap something out, but an unsettled feeling stops him.

Instead, he frees his hands to gently nudge Mihashi’s out of the way and unbutton his shirt all the way. After a moment, Mihashi starts watching his hands; Abe releases a quiet breath, relieved that he is, as always, fairly easy to distract.

Though, to be honest, so is he right now. Mihashi wriggles his shoulders, helping Abe slide his jersey off. The undershirt collar that Abe had so uncaringly stretched earlier reveals a tantalising glimpse of collarbone thrown into sharp relief by his movements. Abe sets the jersey to the side as neatly as is possible when there’s something so much more interesting going on, and, catching the hem of Mihashi’s shirt, he tugs it higher, ordering, “Arms up.”

He doesn’t bother watching what he’s doing, gaze lowered instead to where Mihashi’s bare stomach is revealed. He’s seen Mihashi shirtless countless times, but now, he’s impatient to see him again, to see him after everything they just did. Abe pulls it off with a small amount of fumbling and then drops it on top of the jersey before placing his hands on either side of Mihashi's waist. Most of his attention is still on his torso, but he can see peripherally that Mihashi’s looking at his face and then down, wide-eyed and blushing. That’s much better. Mihashi wiggles under him, forcing a low, murmuring sound from him, but he’s too focused on Mihashi to pay his own body much mind. He watches as he strokes his thumbs over Mihashi’s ribs, eliciting a fascinating little hum of pleasure, before his gaze slips down to his stomach, then back up his chest. Leaning in, Abe kisses the hollow of his throat, his collarbone, the side of his neck. Mihashi seems oddly startled, gasping each time his lips touch his skin. And then whimpering when Abe gently bites his neck.

He makes a frustrated noise and thumps his forehead against Mihashi’s shoulder. His skin is soft against his face, a thin sheen of sweat making Abe’s lips drag sticky over his chest as he opens his mouth on a rough pant. Mihashi shivers under him with another delicious whimper. The noises he’s making are so sweet that Abe wants to bang his head against the wall in frustration at having to stop here. At this rate, he could probably get him hard again, maybe get a chance to touch him _properly_.

“Okay. Really gotta stop now,” he grumbles to himself. He can feel Mihashi’s hand hovering uncertainly near his head, but when he speaks, he jerks it away, slapping both hands on the floor and making Abe jump. Mihashi stutters out a few frantic syllables that may or may not be words; Abe lifts his head away from his shoulder to fix him with a heavy-lidded, curious stare. But he doesn’t bother to ask, just kisses him, which seems to quiet him, then leans back, rocking onto his heels and hopping up so he’s finally standing again.

“Get your clothes and go take a shower; I’ll be along in a minute.”

Mihashi blinks up at him, then nods. He casts around the room several times before looking down and seeing the pile of cloth right next to his hand; Abe rolls his eyes. Mihashi clutches his little bundle to his chest, turning back as Abe leans in, expression darkening.

“And don’t think I didn’t notice you weren’t wearing a cup again.” He slides a hand into Mihashi’s hair and tugs it gently; Mihashi flinches, but then gives him a nervous smile. He steps back to give him room to stand, and he clambers to his feet, then shoots Abe an odd wide-eyed look. But when he meets his eyes, he just squeaks and hurries towards the showers.

Once he’s gone, Abe buries his head in his hands and exhales a long, shuddering breath that turns into a groan. He doesn’t let himself linger long, however, walking (suspiciously fast) down the hall and into the washrooms where he locks himself into a stall and leans back against the door. There are way too many layers to strip away before he can actually get his hand on his dick, but once he does, he gasps with relief and starts stroking himself immediately, head banging back against the stall door. He’s almost grateful that he’s so worked up because he doesn’t have much time. With Mihashi’s little orgasmic shiver in his mind, he finally comes into his hand.

Relieved, he cleans himself up and adjusts his clothing, washes his hands, and then leaves to find Mihashi.

Abe leans to peer around the entrance to the showers as he calls out, “Mihashi?” If his face is still a bit flushed, he feels sure that Mihashi isn’t going to call him on it.

Mihashi, who responds to his query with a startled cry, who drops the shirt he was…apparently folding, who kneels on the floor _far_ from any showers. Mihashi who is twisting to peer at Abe, altering the delicate curve of his spine, the angle of his shoulder blade as he shrugs up a shoulder against his chin. He’s frozen: seeing Mihashi naked now is completely different than before, and he can’t help but stare. Even if Mihashi _is_ back to spazzing and flailing.

Mihashi picks up the shirt, drops it again, and then holds up a pair of inside-out faded black boxers. “I...f-fold...ded... B-b-but underwear, they’re!” He lowers them to his lap somewhat disconsolately. “So I...so I took...then fix...but I don’t ha...s-spare...” Now, he’s looking frantically back and forth between Abe and the (surprisingly neat) pile of his clothes. How it took him so long is a little mystifying (as is why he folded clothes he was going to put back on so soon). If it were anyone else, he might suspect they were delaying on purpose.

Abe doesn’t try to parse out exactly what Mihashi says, just steps over and reaches down to take the underwear, eyeing the mess critically. He looks down just in time to watch Mihashi come to the sudden realisation that he’s naked, eyes going wide and cheeks flushing, ducking his head and leaning forwards on his hands as if trying to hide himself. As though Abe’s not standing over him with his come-stained boxers in his hand. His eyes flick back to them, a pink tinge appearing on his own cheeks; he takes a deep, sighing breath, trying to calm himself before Mihashi looks back up. He doesn’t need to know how much Abe’s heart pounds, seeing the physical evidence of making him come.

“I have some spare clothes, but I don’t think they’ll fit you. Mm... We’ll wipe them down and you’ll just have to do with that for the afternoon.” Confident he’s regained control of his face, he looks down at Mihashi, eyebrows raised. “Just go shower already.”

“Y...yeah!” Mihashi answers, sounding more grateful than the situation seems to warrant. Still, it’s a relief, as is his nervous smile as he stands, looking at Abe a moment before bouncing off to the nearest shower.

Abe stares down at the underwear in his hands, glancing up just in time to catch Mihashi peeking over his shoulder at him. He freezes awkwardly, unsure how he should be reacting, unconsciously tightening his grip. He manages something like a smile, but can’t stop his gaze from flicking down.

Wishing desperately to break the moment, since they DO need to get back to practice sometime today (probably), he turns quickly to go retrieve a cloth. Wetting it, he does the best he can with the underwear (while trying not to think about it too much), then makes a cursory examination of Mihashi’s pants. They seem fine, and he places them and the underwear next to the rest of Mihashi’s clothes. The things that get Mihashi all freaked out are incomprehensible, but at least it’s dealt with now.

Abe grabs a towel, shakes it out, then stands there holding it, clearly making no move to leave. Mihashi looks at him again, blushing and turning away with a little shivering wiggle that Abe does his best to staunchly ignore. Shutting off the water, Mihashi glances at him once more, eyebrows drawn up in inexplicable sudden worry. Still, he turns and steps quickly over to him and grabs an edge of the towel, peering down at their hands. Abe refuses to let him take it and instead, he lifts the towel to his hair and rubs, a bit rough in his nervousness. Mihashi squawks, hands jerking up, but his lips curve in a tentative little smile when Abe slides the towel down the back of his neck. He watches Abe’s hands as he dries his shoulders, arms, but closes his eyes and inhales sharply as he starts rubbing down his chest. Rather than continue in THAT evidently dangerous direction, Abe shakes out the towel again, leaning close to wrap it around Mihashi’s hips. He appears to... _sniff_ him as he draws back.

Trying not to think about that, he levels a direct stare at Mihashi, asking, “You still tired?”

“Nope!” Mihashi’s response is surprisingly quick, and it seems true: he bounces on his toes, then adjusts the towel with another wiggle. And then stands there, plinking at Abe and biting his lip, prickling with nervous excitement for some reason.

“Good—” Abe starts, but the word freezes in his mouth when Mihashi presses close.

He remains perfectly still, almost as if he’s afraid of spooking him, until Mihashi rocks up on his toes and kisses him. Only then, he tilts his head, improving the angle as he slides one hand under Mihashi’s jaw to hold him gently.

Even though they’ve done it before, minutes ago even, it still sends a shock through him. He kisses back insistently, not letting Mihashi get away with a little peck. But then he seems perfectly happy about that, hands creeping up to rest timidly on Abe’s chest. His touch becomes less timid when Abe nips his lower lip, the light drag of his teeth startling a gasp out of Mihashi as his fingers twist in the fabric of his jersey. The sound makes him want to bite again as he licks over the same place, but before it’s more than a half-formed thought, Mihashi’s taking his lower lip wetly into his mouth and letting it slip out past his own teeth. Abe hums into the kiss, a warm, pleased sound, slides his tongue along Mihashi’s lip. He licks into his mouth, urging it open once again, and Mihashi obligingly parts his lips with a surprisingly urgent noise. Abe strokes slowly up and down the delicate skin of his throat with his thumb; he knows very well he should be keeping his hands to himself at this point. But every little sound Mihashi makes, each squirm and wriggle, only makes him eager to earn more. They need to get back out there. But right now, it’s hard for him to deny Mihashi anything.

Abe blinks, surprised when Mihashi abruptly pulls back with an odd panted gasp. They stare, eyes locked for a moment before Mihashi drops his gaze, blushing and looking distressed, which, of course, makes Abe immediately look down. He stares, looks up to Mihashi’s face, then looks down again with a pained expression. The pads of his fingers press into the sides of Mihashi’s neck as he desperately tries to think of how to deal with this.

He’s eternally grateful that he already told Momoe that they might be gone for a while, depending on what Mihashi’s condition was. This definitely wasn’t what they’d discussed. Abe staunchly ignores a pang of guilt.

“Are you hard again?” he asks, low, quiet. Mihashi stares somewhere in the vicinity of his shoulder, biting his lip, and watching that, Abe has to suppress a shiver. He seems to be struggling an impressive amount with what should be a simple answer. Abe can just _tell_ that he considers lying about it for a moment.

Before he can get too impatient, though, Mihashi forces out, “I...I...I...yes??” He slides back half a step, bright red, shoulders hunched up as though he thinks he’ll be in trouble. “S-sorry…” He pulls against Abe's grip.

“Fuck,” Abe replies, voice dropping to a rougher tone. Mihashi jumps, giving him a shocked look, but relaxes as Abe presses his hands over his, trapping them against his chest briefly.

He still feels like he has no clue how to do this, how to handle any of it, but he’s pulled forward by the way Mihashi looks at him, the way he sways towards him. He leans in to kiss his shoulder, lips barely brushing his skin, exhales slowly, gathering his nerves, then tilts his head to kiss the side of his neck as he drops his free hand down to grip Mihashi’s hip through the flimsy towel. Mihashi’s breath hitches gratifyingly as he gently tugs him closer.

Pressing against Abe, he murmurs, “A-again?”

He nods, echoing back, “Again.” He lifts his hands away from the towel, putting enough space between their bodies that he can see down the length of Mihashi’s torso. He kisses his neck again, nipping gently at the end of the kiss, rewarded with a soft groan. Then, straightening, tilting Mihashi’s head up so they’re nose-to-nose, he says, “Show me.” There’s a faint hint of a question to his tone, but it’s more like a demand than a request.

Mihashi stares back at him wide-eyed, blushing furiously. He shakes his head frantically, hand creeping down over his belly to cling to the edge of the towel. Abe doesn’t react, just does his best to wait him out, letting him come around to a decision. Which apparently takes a long time, and requires a lot of weird, hiccupy breathing and a thorough examination of the floor tiles.

“Abe-kun...think I’m...it’s…look bad??” he mumbles, but before Abe can figure out what the hell he’s saying, Mihashi steps back, mouth open on loud, panted breaths as he tightens his hold on the towel.

Though his expression is deceptively bland, Abe watches eagerly as Mihashi grips the towel tightly for a moment and then untucks it. Abe follows its path to the floor and pauses, hesitating, then slowly looks up Mihashi’s body. Up, past his knees, to the soft curve of his thighs and the sharp jut of his hip bones and his dick. Which is hard. Because of Abe. Again. Heat spreads through him, embarrassment and arousal mixing, leaving him breathless. He forces himself not to stare too long, shifting his gaze to Mihashi’s stomach, then up the centre of his chest before he looks up to make eye contact again, finding Mihashi anxiously searching his face for...something.

Overwhelmed, Abe can’t seem to speak, has no clue what to say to reassure him anyway, so instead, he places his hands on Mihashi’s hips again, thumbs stroking over the ridges of his hip bones. He can feel a warm flush spread across his cheeks as he slides his fingers across Mihashi’s stomach. Mihashi makes a quiet close-mouthed noise, eyes closing, so perhaps touching him is comfort enough for whatever had him worried this time.

Abe rubs the flat of his palm against Mihashi’s stomach, avoiding making any contact with his dick just yet, though each time his hand slides downward, Mihashi gasps out wonderful little noises. His hands come up near Abe’s hips, but stop, hover there uncertainly. Eyeing them, Abe opens his mouth, starts to say something, but cuts himself off with a frown. Instead, he slips his fingers over Mihashi’s navel, then slides his hand up along his waist and around to the small of his back. He presses a damp kiss to Mihashi’s shoulder and breathes against his skin momentarily, then kisses a spot right beside his ear. Mihashi’s head tips back, mouth open on another breathy pant, but he’s watching Abe through his lashes. _Good_. He tilts his head a bit, pointedly looking down.

“You should...” he pauses, fingers twitching against Mihashi’s back, “touch yourself a little.”

Mihashi flinches, head snapping upright, eyes instantly wide on his face.

“Nn..no...I! I...” he stammers out, pressing his chin to his shoulder as he avoids Abe's gaze. He leans back, and it seems like he might pull away, but the slight resistance of Abe’s hand seems to stop him.

_I can be patient. I can wait this out._

Mihashi brings a hand to cover his face, forcing out, “I...I ca...I c-c-can’t!” shaking his head, then starts violently, in response to WHAT, Abe can’t tell. Abe opens his mouth to tell him to forget about it, but then Mihashi stills, turns his head enough to see Abe from the corner of his eye; he stares back levelly, expression as neutral as he can manage. Mihashi ducks his head, biting his lip, lowering his hands to rest low on Abe’s chest. They stay there a moment, then slip down and off, one arm curling across his stomach, but the other hand…the other hand coming to rest on the join of hip and thigh. Eyes flicking up to Abe's face once more, he slides his hand hesitantly down and grips his dick; Abe tenses, fingers pressing into Mihashi’s back, creating tiny indents in his skin. There’s another pause, and then Mihashi strokes up slowly once, twice, breath coming fast, uneven.

Mihashi’s embarrassment doesn’t seem to be fading; he shoves his face against Abe’s shoulder, ears pink-tinged. Abe was ready for that, of course, but he hadn’t expected that  _he_ would find this so hot. He’d been intending to watch for a moment to gauge what Mihashi might like him to do. It was just a plan to get things going. But now, as Mihashi pants little desperate noises against his chest, hand moving less and less timidly, it’s surprisingly intoxicating. Abe reaches up to bury his hand in Mihashi’s hair, fingers curling gently. He’s desperate to have a hold on him, even going so far as to drop the hand on his back down to grab his ass, squeezing lightly, leaving Mihashi arching into his touch with a startled, close-mouthed sound.

Abe leans his cheek on his head and murmurs, “Oh, _fuck_ , Mihashi. Do you want—?” He shifts his arm, changing the angle so he can cup Mihashi’s ass properly, drags his palm down over the curve, squeezing slowly, almost kneading. He feels Mihashi’s hand on his belt just over his hip, fingers twitching, slipping just under the waistband. He shivers, but doesn’t react to it otherwise. Can’t. Not when Mihashi is whimpering into his shoulder. Not when he’s dragging his lips up Abe’s neck and breathing against his cheek.

Not when he’s leaning back to look at him, asking, “I w-wa...ah...please?” so sweetly. He shivers again, but smirks a little as he kisses Mihashi’s cheek, his mouth.

Abe gently pushes on the back of his head, guiding him until his face is pressed into his neck. Then, he drags a hand down Mihashi’s chest, sliding down past his navel, enjoying the warm, stuttered breath he gets in response. Nothing on the gasp he gets when he briefly encircles the base of his dick, squeezing before covering Mihashi’s now stilled fingers with his own. Abe’s getting hard again, but to him that doesn’t seem quite as important as finally having his hands on Mihashi, feeling the way he shivers, mouth opening wet against his skin as Abe drags his thumb up to press near the tip of his dick.

“What do you want me to do?” he asks, nearly panting out the first word.

“W...wa...nt... I like?” Mihashi gasps, “I...want Abe-kun to...to...to...” Apparently giving up, he just guides Abe through a few tentative strokes. It’s surprising, getting such a helpful and direct response, although he figures it’s probably because he didn’t actually have to SAY what he wanted. Still, he smiles and affectionately bumps his cheeks against his head. Mihashi disentangles his hand, curling his arm around Abe’s neck in a loose embrace. It has the unfortunate effect of mostly blocking his view, but now he can wrap his fingers around Mihashi’s dick properly, and besides, it’s worth it to have him tug him close, nuzzling and kissing him. “But...but...I _do_ want...Abe-kun to...to do it. If that’s okay.” That’s an improvement, and Abe rewards it with another light squeeze.

“Yeah. I got it. I got you.” He mimics Mihashi’s stroke, though his touch is heavier, more insistent. Mihashi’s fingers are wandering, sliding up his nape, giving him goosebumps and making him exhale a shivery breath into Mihashi’s hair. But he doesn’t let it distract him, especially not with Mihashi turning, pressing his side up against him, presenting himself to Abe, to his touch. He strokes his dick in a steady rhythm, sliding his other hand from his ass down to the back of his thighs, then up again, petting him. Mihashi shivers, gasps out a breathy noise against Abe’s skin, then kisses the side of his neck. He tips his chin back, exposing his throat to the spitty line of kisses that Mihashi trails up his neck and along his jawline.

Running his fingers up into the short hair on the back of Abe’s neck, Mihashi’s breath comes quicker, rougher, his hips twitching, jerking. Abe naturally increases the pace of his strokes as Mihashi begins to thrust into his hand. Feeling Mihashi move like that makes him want to stop moving his hand altogether, so that he would have to just fuck into his hand if he wanted to get off. He grits his teeth, making a faint, strained noise as he forces himself to resist the impulse.

Mihashi releases his waistband, hand wandering down the side of his thigh. His wiggling is making it difficult for Abe, so he slides his hand from Mihashi’s ass and wraps an arm around his waist, pulling him closer. Mihashi’s hand skims up, over his ass to grab a belt loop, surprising Abe, making him squeeze his dick, rhythm stuttering momentarily.

“Nn...no, I!” Mihashi’s voice is startlingly loud and intoxicatingly frantic, echoing a little. “Please don’t s-stop! I want...!” He tenses suddenly, hand jerking down off Abe’s neck to slap over his mouth as he turns his head, pressing his forehead against his shoulder. But regardless of his distress, he can’t seem to keep his hips still, trembling and hitching forwards. Mihashi drops his hand to rest on Abe’s chest, callused fingers dragging over the soft skin of his throat. Abe releases a low, closed-mouth groan as Mihashi slowly begins to thrust into his hand. He keeps it still, only shifting his grip a little to make it easier. His head tilts, nudging their cheeks together until Mihashi turns, lifts his head enough that Abe can kiss his mouth over and over, gently biting his lip after the last kiss and drawing a delightful whimper out of him.

When he speaks, it’s right against Mihashi’s mouth. “Ask again.”

“Ah??” Mihashi just pants for a moment before murmuring, “Mm...mm...I...” He looks away, seems as though he might hide his face against Abe’s shoulder again, but stays with their cheeks pressed together. And then, gratifyingly, continues, “More. I want...m-more.” turning to breathe out the last word against his lips.

Abe lets Mihashi’s hips jerk a couple more times before he shifts his grip and begins to stroke his dick again, matching the speed of Mihashi’s thrusts. “Good,” he half-mumbles, barely paying attention to what he’s saying, far more interested in kissing.

He kisses aggressively, urging Mihashi’s mouth open so he can suck on his tongue. His arm tightens around Mihashi’s waist, pulling him up against his chest, so close that there’s just barely enough room for him to continue stroking his dick. Mihashi kisses back enthusiastically at first, but becomes more and more sloppy, then just gasps out incoherent noises against his lips. Eventually, Abe just kisses along his jaw and down the side of his neck, somehow resisting the urge to bite as Mihashi clings to him, shaking. He cries out, head tipping back, and Abe looks up immediately, eager to watch, to see how he looks when he comes. Comes with Abe’s hand on his dick, with Abe’s arm curling tighter around his waist, comes because of _him_ , _again_.

Mihashi’s eyes are mostly pupil, half-open until he notices Abe watching. They widen then, his lips parting on another cry, his lower lip pink, slightly swollen. Abe can’t resist the urge to kiss him then, swallowing any further sounds as Mihashi’s come spills over his fingers.

His hand gradually slows, stops, as Mihashi pants against his cheek. Somewhat dazed and (unfortunately for him) very much aroused again, Abe stares at the come on his hand, wondering what he should do with it since he still has an armful of Mihashi, when he glances down at his pants. The front is splattered with come, which is simultaneously hot and aggravating.

“Mihashi?” He speaks quietly, though still sounding mildly annoyed, “We should probably clean up and take you to the nurse’s office. You could sleep there for a while.”

Mihashi wobbles, as though suddenly remembering his exhaustion, and his head drops forward onto Abe’s shoulder. “Y-yeah, I...I...sleep.” He stiffens suddenly, and pulls back, looking at Abe’s pants. “Ah! Oh…oh no! S-s-so...sorry…” Jerking out of Abe’s grasp, he grabs the towel off the floor, and makes a move like he’s going to wipe the front of his pants. Abe catches Mihashi’s wrist, stopping him before he can make contact with his crotch; Mihashi freezes, eyes wide. He inhales a steadying breath, then plucks the towel from Mihashi’s hand, using it to wipe his own off.

“Uh. No. I’ll take care of it myself. I do have an extra pair here, anyway.” He glances down at his pants again, and it takes a tremendous amount of effort to keep himself from thinking about how close Mihashi’s come is to his dick. It’s a relief that he’s wearing so many layers of underwear at this point.

“Oh...” Mihashi replies, sounding oddly disappointed. Abruptly, he leans toward Abe, free hand curling into a fist in front of his shoulder, eyes wide. “Ah! C-c-can... I can...Abe-kun’s pants?”

Abe stares at him for a moment until he can fill in the missing parts of the sentence, then shakes his head. “No, _you_ stay here and get dressed.” He pauses to give Mihashi a look, wondering if he’s forgotten that he’s standing here naked. It seems he had, because now he’s staring across the room at the pile of his clothes and turning pink. Raising an eyebrow, he huffs out an amused breath and then continues. “I’ll go change; come meet me at the entrance when you’re ready.”

He releases Mihashi’s arm and takes hold of his hand instead, squeezing lightly. Mihashi jumps, then stares down at their hands. At this point, Abe’s unsure if he’s trying to gauge the temperature of Mihashi’s hand or just comfort himself. But to his relief, Mihashi’s palm is warm. Even after everything they’ve done. He’s aware that his own hand must feel cool to the touch, but he can’t afford to linger, wait for his hand to warm up. Mihashi seems to have noticed, eyebrows drawing together in a worried frown; if he gives him any more time to think about it, he’ll probably end up freaking out and making some kind of wild assumption. If Mihashi  _is_ feeling good, Abe wants him to stay that way. So, he releases Mihashi’s hand and leaves the showers, making his way back to the club room.

Abe strips down and changes into the fresh pants, then folds up the come-stained ones and tucks them into the back of his cubby to be dealt with later. He hears Mihashi creep in behind him, but doesn’t bother to look up to see what he’s doing, just focuses on getting his things in order so that he can get out of here quickly.

A glance at the clock tells him that they have been in here for...way too long. He’s almost glad that Mihashi needs a nap, because otherwise, he has no idea how he would explain their extended absence to the rest of the team. He tidies his things, then steps over to Mihashi and the door. He’s blushing, for some reason looking between Abe and the floor just up the shallow step from the entrance... _oh_. Abe feels a bit flustered, but keeps his expression carefully neutral.

“Right. Nurse’s office. I don’t want you crashing later today. Also,” he rubs a hand against his own forehead as Mihashi nods slowly, yawning wide, “let’s not do this here again.” Another slower nod from Mihashi...but now he’s biting his lip, looking down dejectedly. _Did he really like having sex here...? Because that’s just too bad, as far as I’m concerned_. He opens his mouth to say something to that effect, but shuts it when Mihashi starts talking.

“Um...I...c-c-can...the...Nurse's...b-by myself. A-a-a-Abe-kun doesn’t have...doesn’t have to...” Abe opens his mouth again to reply, but before he can get a single word out, Mihashi bolts past him, throwing open the door with a bang that makes him flinch.

It takes him half a breath to register that there were tears in his eyes.

Abe whirls around, agape, and dashes after him, calling his name. But he’s already almost to the school building, not looking back, so Abe gives up the chase. He can always find him later.

_What the hell even happened? One moment, he seemed so happy with everything, and the next… Fleeing from me like I’d said something terrible._

_Wait. Is he…shit, is he scared of doing it again?_

Abe runs through the events in his mind, and suddenly, Mihashi’s earlier protests seem less like his typical timidity (not to mention stubbornness). And Abe can’t get the way he’d looked when they first got in here, Mihashi’s tear-streaked, exhausted, lost face out of his head. The way he stumbled back against the wall, acting as though Abe was _terrorising_ him; at the time, all he could think about was how much it pissed him off, how much it _hurt_ , but now… Now, it leaves him with a sickening lump in his stomach.

Abe slumps against the door, hand over his mouth, eyes wide but unseeing. _Was he just going along with it? He obviously enjoyed himself, but… But I can’t discount that he just let me do things because he was afraid of saying no._

He bumps his head back against the door with a frustrated noise. Now, he feels like some kind of pervert, even though he hadn’t even come in front of him. _Mihashi is impossible._ He can’t even begin to figure out how he's supposed to address this. Especially not with their first real game looming on the horizon…

* * *

Mihashi only picks up speed as he crashes across the yard and through the doors into the school building. He listens desperately for the sound of footsteps counterpoint to his own, for the sound of doors swinging open behind him, though he can’t for the life of him decide whether it’s with hope or fear.

_I made…I made Abe do all that stuff…and he wouldn’t even…didn’t even want me to touch him… And why would he? Why would anyone?_

Mihashi falls against the door to the nurse’s office, fumbling it open, breath coming far too fast and shallow to be explained by the short run. The middle-aged woman with a tight French braid who had been leisurely poking through some papers and sipping her coffee leaps up as soon as she lays eyes on him. It just makes Mihashi feel worse, her brusque kindness, the questions he can only half-answer with sobbing incoherence, and the ones he _can_ that just make him feel stupid and useless. _Can’t even do this right_. When she’s ascertained he’s not in need of medical attention, she sighs, makes him drink a glass of water and then lets him curl up on the hard, crinkly bed behind a curtain.

But still, as his breathing calms and his tears dry, he can’t help thinking over the events of this morning, that bursting happiness rising in him at the memory of Abe’s lips on his own and his arms around him, the things he’d let Mihashi do, the things he’d done for him. Only to be swallowed up again by thoughts of Abe angry and frustrated, Abe with his face neutral and disinterested, Abe annoyed that Mihashi was not content with just _one_ miraculous gift, would demand a second, and this time, make even _more_ work for him.

Mihashi pushes the memories aside, turning to rub his face against the crinkly, sterile-smelling pillow. And then suddenly, he’s remembering something _else_ , something not real but that could now be revisited with the real knowledge of just what it felt like to be kissed, to have another person play his body so wonderfully, to know the feel of another body pressed tight against him as ecstasy rolls through him.

Mihashi listens to the nurse slurp her coffee and (probably thinking he’s asleep) quietly gossip with another teacher. The blanket is just as scratchy as he’d imagined, and there’s a decidedly unromantic poster about smoking on the wall across from the foot of the bed, and Mihashi can’t quite put words to the awful pit in his chest so he just cries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 8D
> 
> They were ALSO supposed to go back out here.


	7. Spinning Wheels

It’s not immediately apparent to Abe that he’s being avoided. They need to talk (and soon) about what happened, but if Mihashi needs a little space to figure something out, that’s acceptable. And if he’s honest with himself, Abe’s not sure how to begin the conversation anyway. It’s not like it’s a situation he’s used to dealing with; add to that Mihashi’s propensity for flipping out and misunderstanding him (which _already_ seems to have happened), and the whole thing is...a bit daunting. Of course, asking for advice, asking for help, doesn’t even cross his mind. This is private. And besides, he can handle this. Just has to figure out how.

In the days following the Clubroom Incident, Abe finds himself surprised, almost impressed by how long and how well Mihashi manages to dodge being alone with him.

The bullpen offers less time to talk than he'd like, especially with Mihashi shying away from him the second he comes close. When they practice as a group, Mihashi always manages to be as far away as possible. And forget tracking him down any other time; once, he poked his head into Class Nine during lunch only to have Mihashi slither off his chair to crouch behind a desk before he could even call out to him. The only good thing about that was that it kept the attention of the other three on  _him_ so Abe could slip away unnoticed before anyone could see his face.

He’s tried pretty much everything to get just a minute to talk, even dawdling a little on their way back from morning practices so he could lock up his bike next to Mihashi's. But without fail, later in the day, Mihashi's bike would be moved, robbing him even of those few seconds to talk. Even if he hadn’t already had his suspicions, this particular new level of idiocy makes Mihashi’s intentions exceptionally clear. If nothing else, it’s aggravating that Mihashi’s wasting so much effort (and risking injured fingers) fighting his way in and out of the crowded bike racks to do something so _stupid_. It gets to the point where Abe considers locking his bike  _to_ Mihashi's just to end the damn game.

He tries to find other times. There _should_ be other times. But Mihashi never lets himself get separated from the other boys, and Tajima, in particular, he seems to use as a shield. He's glad—overjoyed, really—that Mihashi appears to actually be making friends with someone, but Abe just wishes it wasn’t currently interfering with _them_.

So he backs off, bides his time, waiting and knowing that a perfect moment will come up. Eventually.

* * *

 

Summer is the _worst_.

Even at the hour morning practice ends, it’s already sweltering, and regardless of running quickly through the showers, Izumi’s still sweaty by the time they get to class. The sound of cicadas isn’t pleasantly evocative of the countryside, it’s fucking annoying. Certain older brothers are home for break and making a nuisance of themselves. And everyone wears fewer clothes, and there are _far_ too many bared shoulders and glimpses of thigh and almost-cleavage and then of course all the boys running around with no shirts and slinging their arms around your shoulder, all sweaty and aggressively cheery and too close and too hot and Izumi loves every awful moment of it.

Except that it’s Danger.

But even though conflicted alarm bells ring in his head, he does his best to smile naturally, to joke back, to pretend as though he’s any other guy and he doesn’t care, as though his heart doesn’t leap in his chest, as though he doesn’t want to tilt his head just a little more and suck a wet kiss behind Mizutani’s jaw and see if he’d still make the same goofy face _then_ , take _that_. He can’t bring himself to hug back, is reluctant to initiate contact, and he can tell it confuses Mizutani, hurts his feelings a little, but he doesn’t trust himself not to linger a little too long with his fingers pressing into his slim back. If he ever really gave himself the permission to touch, he’s pretty sure he’d do it until his feelings were more than clear. And yet, even when he doesn’t touch, his eyes follow that beanpole form, and he just _knows_ it’s going to betray him, to fuck him over soon.

So, summer’s the worst.

He’s been doing his best to ignore his feelings, to tell himself he does _not_ have a crush on a teammate. Again. Not happening. And sometimes, he nearly convinces himself it’s true, arrives to practice steeled and ready to not scan the field eagerly for him, to not care when he runs up with a smile and a wave and adorable puppy-like enthusiasm, or comes late and grabs Izumi’s shoulder from behind with a too-loud greeting, to not think _shit, was he this cute yesterday?_

To not find excuses to wander past class seven’s open door during breaks, stopping in to ask Hanai something so idiotically unnecessary that he frowns at Izumi, perplexed, and yet never asking why, why his eyes keep sliding off Hanai’s face and behind to another boy’s.

And then that dork has the gall to wave him over and get all excited about some show he’s watching and offer Izumi a raspberry from his lunch and he’s screwed, he’s _so_ screwed. He brushes Mizutani’s fingers lightly as he takes the berry, carefully ignoring the way it's slightly crushed and leaves a bright red smear of juice on Mizutani's thumb that he wants, so badly, badly wants, to grab and stick in his own mouth, lick clean, not just be wistfully watching him do it himself. Then, when Mizutani looks up, then, he can’t stop himself from holding his eyes as he finally brings the berry to his mouth, hoping with half his heart that he won’t read his thoughts, won’t read the way he rests it against his tongue for half a second too long, and the other half hoping he will, hoping the way Mizutani’s eyes drift down and then snap back up to lock with his own fucking _means_ something, and Izumi trying to hold up his end of the conversation when he’s all full of half-formed fantasies of grabbing Mizutani’s hand and dragging him into the bathroom, the broom closet, hell, the bottom of the stairwell, he doesn’t give a fuck where, and seeing what _else_ of Mizutani’s he can get into his mouth.

But he doesn’t, he just smiles, tells him thanks, it was delicious, then hurries back to their classroom and is a bit short with Mihashi and elbows Hamada harder than is really fair, and then sulkily mashes his face into his arms to nap. But whatever, _they_ don’t have to deal with this stuff.

Except...maybe Tajima’s right about Mihashi. Izumi finds himself eyeing him from time to time, considering. And anyway, even if Mihashi’s not like him, he’s far too sweet, far too much of a weenie to blab about it, and it’d be so nice to just goddamn _talk_ about this to someone...

But it’s just too dangerous.

So he’s left with nothing but watching and thinking and wanting. Nothing but the choice _do I run beside him so we can talk or behind so I can look at him and feel like a creep?_ Nothing but pressing his lips into a smile as words crowd the back of his throat, clamour and cry to be released, and he’s horrified, because he _means_ them, he means every lewd insinuation and also every cheesy promise, every compliment, every endearment, with such a deep affection behind every one, and he wishes, he wishes he didn’t. They could come out so easily, they belong there, would fit just so at the end of his sentences, I love you, you're gorgeous, you are the light that brightens my day and maybe he could just slip one in and no one would notice but the pressure would be relieved, his antsy frustration cooled.

But it doesn’t work like that, these words call people’s attention to them, because they are markers of specialness that beg to be noticed, and he can’t afford that. And it hurts even more because he _can_ , he can wrap his arm around Tajima’s shoulders or slap Hamada on the back and tell him he _loves_ him, man, and it’s totally fine, because he won’t flush red with shame if someone accuses him of meaning it.

So he tries not to be in love with stupid Mizutani Fumiki and his dumb cute face, does his absolute best.

And fails miserably.

* * *

Summer is the _best_.

Practice is in full gear, the start of the summer tournament looming over them like the hot sun above, just as overwhelming and invigorating. Tajima has always felt powered by the sun, as if each freckle it draws out on his skin were a magic sigil, a ruling constellation drawn on him that makes him run faster, swing harder, laugh louder, makes him _invincible_. And everyone’s happy in the summer, because there’s ice cream and watermelon and dropping your bike to run through sprinklers at the park on the way home with a whoop and a laugh and break coming soon (but not soon enough), and he doesn’t understand why Izumi’s gotten so much _crankier,_ lately.

Still, all Tajima can do is be his usual cheery self and try to distract him when he gets all pissy. And it usually works, even if he has to resort to bringing Izumi’s bad temper down on his own head, lightning rod to expend all his buzzing, angry energy. And then Izumi smiles and laughs and everything’s okay and _mostly_ Tajima doesn’t mind.

Even that can’t ruin his good mood, though. Especially not with so many cute girls running around in shorts or light summer dresses that kindly winds occasionally flip up. He can’t help but feel a little envious; they’re stuck wearing their uniforms, _way_ too covering, _way_ too hot. And even when they’ve got the field to themselves, Hanai won’t let him strip down! It really _shouldn’t_ be such a big deal, he doesn’t get why he’s so stuffy about it. But if Tajima says anything about it, points out that Hanai’s blushing even though he’s a guy, has he never seen a dick before or something? then Hanai just gets madder.

Nevermind when Tajima puts on his most winning smile and suggests maybe  _he_ should try getting naked, too, maybe he’d be less of a grump then! (A perfectly reasonable proposal, in his estimation.)

And then attempts to pull off Hanai’s shirt, rather a feat when he’s so much smaller, making Hanai yell and flail and bat at him. Then it's doing his best to dodge Hanai's grasp and sprinting off before he can fully recoup and chase him, red-faced and hollering, and it makes Tajima’s heart race in a way that goes beyond the air burning in his lungs when he reaches the outfield and turns, laughing, to stare Hanai down.

Hanai skids to a stop, baring his gritted teeth, arms held out as if to grab him, but he _won’t_ , and Tajima _knows_ he won’t. Knows it’s because he’s half-naked, and knows, _knows_ he _wants_ Hanai to, wants to be caught, wants to be thrown to the ground and tussle in the dirt, feel Hanai press him down into the soft prickle of the grass, feel his warm body heavy and unyielding and yet soft, too, and the gorgeous kitten fuzz of his shaved head under Tajima’s fingers, and, of course, regardless of Hanai's size advantage, Tajima'd emerge triumphant, sit on Hanai, and they'd laugh together about the whole thing, and it would be _fun_.

But stupid Hanai won’t _play_ , just looks more and more confused and uncomfortable until Momoe yells at them to get back over here already unless they really feel like running laps.

“Race ya!” he calls, already darting past Hanai.

It’s only later, only when they're waiting for their turn at batting practice again and Izumi brings up the possibility that Mihashi’s crush might be a guy, like...maybe someone they’re around a lot, like maybe even someone on the team, and would that still be cool with Tajima if that were the case (and Tajima wants to roll his eyes and tell Izumi to just spit it out, already, but he doesn’t because he’s pretty sure he’d murder him, and anyway, he knows full well he’ll tell him only when he’s good and ready and not before), it’s only then that it clicks.

“Hey, don’tcha think Hanai’s kind of cute?”

Izumi’s carefully neutral expression transforms into an incredulous glare. “What. The hell. Why are we talking about—”

“You’re probly right, too. I mean, we barely _see_ anyone who’s not on the team, so Mihashi’s—”

“Could we go back to the part where you just told me our captain’s “cute”?”

“Didn’t tell, _asked!_ Anyway, who d’you think it is? It’s not either of us, I think we’d’ve noticed by now. Maybe Sakaeguchi? He’s really nice to him...”

Izumi gives him a pained look, then tilts his head back, sighing dramatically. "It's not Sakaeguchi. He acts more like a fussy parent than anything, so unless Mihashi's got some sort of really backwards Oedipus complex..."

"Easy-push what?"

"You know, like how they say you're supposed to wanna date someone like your mom."

"They say that?" Izumi nods. "Groooooooss! My mom’s _old_. Wait, so what about if you like guys? Do you try and find someone who's like your dad? Or is it still your mom?"

"I don't know! They don't usually talk about stuff like that!"

"Well, they _should_. It's obviously important!"

"How the hell is it important?" Izumi's voice cracks a little, drawing curious glances from nearby teammates; they lower their voices, shifting closer together.

"Well, we gotta know if we're looking for a person who acts like his mom or his dad!"

"Just about everybody treats him like a baby, one way or another..."

They both silently turn to stare intently at each of their teammates in turn, considering; Nishihiro, who was still glancing at them curiously, turns away quickly from their focused, deadpan stares.

Both of them find their attention drawn to the bullpen, where Abe's once again bellowing out something at a cowering Mihashi. He rises from his crouch and stalks over to him, arms raised in a way that somehow manages to be both entreating and vaguely threatening. Maybe it's the aggravated glower, clearly visible with his mask pushed up on his head. Whatever it is, Mihashi responds by turning away entirely, covering his head with his arms. Abe sighs heavily, rubbing his forehead, then says something inaudible, waving his arm in a gesture of finality, and goes back to the plate.

Tajima and Izumi look at each other out of the corner of their eyes, neither one willing to make the suggestion.

After a moment, Tajima takes a breath, crossing his arms. “I’m worried ‘bout them. He’s been real jumpy around Abe, last couple days. Hey...d’you think Hanai would make a good boyfriend?”

“Wha— _Tajima_ , could you pick one topic at a time??” Izumi claps his hands to Tajima’s cheeks.

“Owwwww!”

“You deserved it!”

“Why?” Izumi just shrugs and glares. “Anyway, yeah, you think something happened?”

“How should I know? They spend ninety percent of their time flipping out at each other, same as always.”

Tajima shifts his hands to his hips. “Take it seriously!”

“ _You_ take it— Look. Yeah, Mihashi’s been extra freaked out lately. Doesn’t necessarily mean anything happened. So, do you have a crush on Hanai?”

“Now who’s changing the subject?” Tajima looks off to the side with a mock-innocent expression. “Maaaaaaaybe.” He turns back to Izumi with a grin. “Pretty cool, huh?”

“Wha—” Izumi frowns at him, crossing his arms over his chest. “What part of it’s _cool?_ Having a crush on a guy just sucks!”

Tajima raises an eyebrow. “Ohh?” _Whoops, I pushed_.

Izumi makes an oh-shit face, going pale. For a moment, Tajima feels a little resentful. Izumi should trust him by now, certainly after this conversation, and it hurts that he doesn’t. But it’s not his style, he can’t hold the emotion for very long. He opens his mouth.

Only to shut it when Izumi, staring intently at his feet, voice barely a whisper, starts, “It’s awful. They’re _never_ gonna like you back, even if you could work up the balls to say something. Like, it’s just improbable, that the person you like would be into guys as well,  _and_ would like you. Maybe for you, ‘cause you’re... _you_ , and everyone fucking loves you, but...” Tajima opens his mouth again, frowning, but Izumi’s still going. “And even if they did? What then? You gonna date? In secret, always terrified your parents or the school’s gonna find out, or some asshole’s gonna beat the crap out of both of you? Or the school—”

He’s had about enough. “You still gotta try! There’s always a—”

“Don’t you _dare_ talk like you know a _goddamn_ thing about it. You just decided, on a fucking whim, that “maybe” you have a crush on a boy. Don’t talk to me like you know what it’s really like.”

Tajima draws back, expressionless. “Izumi. That’s not fair.”

“Whatever.” With a shrug, Izumi turns on his heel and stalks away.

* * *

                                            [11:24pm]  
                                            [To: Yuu]  
                                            [From: Kou]  
                                            [No Subject]  
                                            [sorry]

[11:24pm]  
[From: Yuu]  
[Subject: XP]  
[YOU’D BETTER BE, YA JERK.]

[11:26pm]  
[From: Yuu]  
[Subject: Seriously though...]  
[You’re right I DON’T know what it’s life  
to deal with it for a long time or anything.  
But idk I just think it’s fun!  
Having crushes and stuff.  
It’s ~EXCITING~]

With great force of will, Tajima holds himself back from adding anything ELSE aggressively positive before he hits “send”.                                            

                                            [11:29pm]  
                                            [From: Kou]  
                                            [Subject: you? serious? thats a first]  
                                            [dont worry about it  
                                            i was outta line  
                                            and on the subject of crushes  
                                            i guess well just have to agree to disagree  
                                            o(´^｀)o]

[11:30pm]  
[From: Yuu]  
[Subject: XP]  
[Does this lmean you’ll at least  
TALK to me about it now??  
Because I wnna talk about boys!!!  
And girls.  
Wait do you still like girls?]

                                            [11:31pm]  
                                            [From: Kou]  
                                            [Subject: nope]  
                                            [definitely not discussing this with you]

[11:31pm]  
[From: Yuu]  
[Subject: Re: nope]  
[Awwwwwwwwwww!!!! unu  
Ooh! We could have a sleepover  
n talk about our crushes!  
We could invite Mihashi  
n find out that way!]

                                            [11:32pm]  
                                            [From: Kou]  
                                            [Subject: Re: Re: nope]  
                                            [go to bed tajima]

[11:32pm]  
[From: Yuu]  
[Subject: U SUCK!!!]  
[I GUESS I’ll lett you go...for NOW.  
*squints at you disapprovingly*]

* * *

Teammates wave goodbye at the gate, more than ready to get home and relax for as long as they can. They swing tired legs over their bikes and disappear into the warm evening, knowing they'll see each other again way too soon. Leaving Abe stubbornly waiting at the gate, pretending to adjust the strap of his bag.

Because Mihashi isn’t with them, is wheeling his bike along with dragging steps. He stares at his handlebars while Tajima walks backward, talking animatedly. Something about a sibling’s birthday. And the relative cup sizes of his older brothers’ girlfriends. Abe decides to tune that out.

Apparently finished with his dissertation, Tajima finishes with, “Bye, then!” and turns away with a cheery wave.

“Ah...wai...! T-t-Taji...” Mihashi goes from half-awake to full alert in an instant, eyes darting to Abe once before he hunches his shoulders and makes a frenetic survey of everyone’s shoes. Abe grits his teeth; it’s not like he doesn’t know Mihashi doesn’t want to be alone with him right now, but it still hurts. Particularly when he’s not going out of his way to hide it.

“What? I reeeeeeeeally gotta get going!” Tajima looks at Mihashi over his shoulder, and even if his mouth is still open on a broad grin, Abe can see in the fading light that his eyes are serious, attentive. They flick to Abe once; he tenses, but Tajima keeps talking, still sounding just as excited. “They said they’d wait for me for cake. _Cake!!_ ” He falls back beside Mihashi, who is still frozen in place, slinging an arm across his shoulders and continuing with a conspiratorial air, “I’ll see if I can steal you some, okay? See ya to-moooooor-row!” And with that, he claps Mihashi on the back, hard enough to propel him forward the last few steps to where Abe stands before darting off with a smile and a wave.

Abe watches him go with unfair pleasure and gratitude for Tajima’s large family and their convenient birthdays. Taking a steadying breath, he turns to Mihashi, who’s stumbled to a stop, eyes wide, reaching ineffectually after Tajima.

“C'mon, Mihashi,” he says, forcing himself to sound as friendly and welcoming as possible in the hopes that Mihashi won’t flee immediately. “Let’s head—” He ends on a choked noise when Mihashi jumps violently, dropping his bike.

Somehow, Abe can only watch with steadily mounting horror as Mihashi idiotically scrabbles after it down the slope, overbalanced and flailing. Abe's limbs finally respond to his internal yelling and he drops his own bike, racing to close the distance but not before Mihashi trips, loses his balance completely. He goes down with a _lot_ of noise and flailing and Abe just barely catches his collar.

Mihashi darts a panicked look over his shoulder at him, trying to kick his way free and somehow just ending up with one foot through the frame, twisting out of Abe's grasp and falling hard on the other knee.

“What are you _doing?_ ” Abe snaps out, shouting before he can stop himself. “Don’t get yourself hurt over a damn _bike!_ ”

Mihashi cringes, making an odd noise. If this was what it takes to corner him, Abe wishes he’d just let him escape. Dropping to his knees, he grips the bike frame with one hand, placing the other on Mihashi’s thigh, pulling them apart as gently as he can manage. “You okay?” Mihashi’s not looking at him, only barely moves to help as Abe gets him free and shoves his bike off to the side. Placing his hand on Mihashi’s knee, he asks breathlessly, “Does it hurt anywhere?”

Which is when the noises Mihashi’s making resolve into crying. Abe stares, heart in his mouth. _He didn’t fall that bad, did he?_

He’s trying to remember where the nearest clinic is and stoically accepting that there will be no summer tournament for them this year when Mihashi’s breathing steadies a bit, and he gasps out, “Ah...I-I’m...mm...” He looks up for a brief moment, and his face is such a mess of miserable hopefulness that Abe can’t even begin to sort out. But he just looks down again, curling over, a tiny, trembling ball. “I’m...not… Doesn’t! Hurt! I d-d-didn’t fall...hard, so...so...so...”

Abe glares at him, gritting his teeth. “Don’t sit there crying and then tell me it doesn’t hurt!” He’s still yelling; with great effort, he manages to coax his voice into something quieter and (hopefully) less intimidating. “You took the bike down with you. Anyone could see it was a rough fall.” _Maybe a different tack._ “Here—try stretching it a little. Extend your leg.”

“I...sor...ry,” Mihashi chokes out, but obediently shifts, straightening his legs. Abe keeps his hands on him, sliding one around the underside of his knee to help support him, getting a sharp inhale in response. He looks up, but Mihashi avoids his eyes. “It...it...it hurts,” he admits in a small voice after a moment, watching Abe's hands intently as he carefully examines his legs. He's not expecting him to go on, but Mihashi makes a tentative noise, indicates a smudge of dirt on his shin. “But...just here, mostly?? But my knee’s not...! And I didn’t...my hands...”

Abe pulls a face he hopes Mihashi doesn’t see, grabbing his right hand to look at the palm. He wasn’t lying—no broken skin, nothing seems wrong, and a few experimental pokes don’t elicit any pain reactions. He realises he’s lingering longer than necessary cradling Mihashi’s shaking, slightly clammy hand in his, and forces himself to go back to checking his ankle.

Mihashi snuffles. “So...I can still p-p-pitch??” Half the time, it’s impossible to tell whether the things Mihashi says are actually questions; Abe decides to ignore it.

At least now he feels relatively confident Mihashi’s being honest. Abe hums a thoughtful sound before slowly lifting his hands away from Mihashi’s leg. He stands, extending a hand to help him up. Mihashi takes it and comes up easily enough, doesn’t appear to be struggling any. “Okay, you seem alright, but take it easy. Soak in the bath when you get home. And you know how to do icing, yeah? If it hurts tomorrow, be sure and tell me so we can get someone to take care of it.” Mihashi nods mutely in response to each direction, looking somewhere in the vicinity of Abe’s stomach. “For now, I’ll walk you home.”

Again, Mihashi’s eyes flick up with that weird hopeful look, but before Abe can do more than meet his eyes, he’s looking down again, shoulders snapping hunched. _None of this makes any sense. Mihashi’s been the one avoiding_ me. He squashes his irritation and hurt down, just holding his hand until Mihashi himself pulls away, blushing, clutching his hand against his chest. Really _doesn’t make any sense._

Silent now, Abe bends down to collect Mihashi’s bike and supports it until he takes it from him, then recovers his own bike from the ground. He begins to walk, naturally expecting Mihashi to follow after him. After a moment, Mihashi jogs up and then slows to walk beside (and, irritatingly, a little behind) him.

They walk a while, the only sound the slow turning of their bike wheels. Nervous, Abe presses his mouth into a thin line. He’s honestly not sure how to even start the conversation and, really, this probably isn’t the best time to talk about it, but he has to take advantage of the opportunity. Eventually, he clears his throat a little and glances over at Mihashi. Who is pale-faced and so obviously distressed that Abe’s left even more annoyed and confused than he was before.

“Mihashi,” he starts. Slowly, determinedly, “What happened last week? It looked like you were really into it, but if I did something wrong, I won’t know unless you tell me.”

“Hah???” He sees peripherally that Mihashi’s stopped, turns to find him literally mid-step with one foot in the air. His knuckles are white where he's clutching the handlebars and his gaze is, as always, fixed on the ground. There’s enough light that Abe can watch him blush violently, then blanch. Then start trembling. Then slowly sink to his knees again, head low, clinging to his bike as though his life depended on it.

Best case scenario, Mihashi’s completely misunderstood him (though thinking back over what he said, he can’t even begin to imagine how). And now he’s crying again, narrow shoulders hunched and shaking convulsively.

Abe’s about ready to throw his bike at something.

But he also feels guilty; it seems more and more likely that he  _did_ do something wrong. He can’t let Mihashi’s crying stop him, though. It’s infuriating to have to drag answers out of him, but he can’t just let this go. There’s already a huge communication barrier between them, and he doesn’t want to think that he’s done something that will make the situation even worse.

Besides, when he was touching Mihashi it had felt like they _were_ communicating; Mihashi even seemed willing to voice his needs. So it can’t have been all bad.

Abe sighs and leans against the handlebars of his bike. Step-by-step. “Were you upset when I kissed you?”

Silence. Aggravating, terrifying silence, in which he can hear his own breath, shallow, fast. And then, shakily, Mihashi responds, “I’m not...I’m not...t-t-tr...Abe-kun d-doesn’t have to...k...ki... ki...”

???

Abe props his bike up, then crouches down next to Mihashi, careful to leave some space between them so he doesn’t overwhelm him. He honestly can’t tell what Mihashi is trying to say. _What don’t I have to do...? Does Mihashi think I’m going to try and kiss him again? Is he trying to make sure I_  don't? _Sure, at the time, I kissed him because…I was so frustrated about not being able to get through to him that getting physical seemed like the best way._ He tries unsuccessfully to catch Mihashi's eye again. _But in retrospect, it probably just confused you._

“I’m not going to kiss you if you don’t want me to, so you don’t need to worry about that, okay?” he grumbles, “I know I should’ve asked before; in the shower room, too.”

Another interminable silence in which Mihashi uncurls a bit; it looks like he’s (mostly) stopped crying. Instead, a strange progression of expressions pass over his face: surprise, then a tiny smile, then his eyebrows pull together in a steadily more perplexed expression. But then another smile. Abe releases a quiet, relieved breath.

Mihashi lifts his eyes to somewhere in the vicinity of Abe’s collarbone; he’s blushing again, which seems like a good sign. “I...I know I...m being s-selfish, but...but...”

“But what?” Abe replies instantly, leaning in towards Mihashi with renewed interest now that he’s finally saying something comprehensible (if still somewhat baffling). “It’s okay if you’re selfish sometimes. You should know that by now.” Abe rests his elbows on his knees as he settles into a more comfortable crouch, and watches expectantly, his expression mild and as clear of irritation as he can possibly manage. Just in time for Mihashi to finally look him full in the face. He doesn’t respond at first, just goggles at Abe. He can sort of understand (for once) why Mihashi is so reluctant to talk; even he's starting to find this conversation embarrassing.

“Ah...ah...I...li...li...” The awestruck face Mihashi’s making is even _more_ embarrassing (if pleasing). “I w-wan...w...” Abe’s focused enough on the words coming out of Mihashi’s mouth that even he doesn’t pay attention to the implications of the way he’s now leaning in with his fists balled in front of his chest. “Want Abe-kun to kiss...!”

The bike crashes to the ground, Mihashi yelping and half-falling, half-scrambling away from it. Sprawled on the ground, Mihashi pants and stares offendedly at the bike.

Abe springs up and grabs it, roughly setting it upright with a clatter that makes Mihashi jump again, kicks down the stand and steadies it before dropping back down. He refuses to let anything interrupt this conversation now that Mihashi seems riled up and eager to speak to him.

“You _want_ me to kiss you again?” he asks bluntly. Mihashi sits up, leans forward on his hands, nodding emphatically. “So you _liked_ it when I kissed you?” Abe rests his forearms on his knees as he leans in, staring expectantly at Mihashi, getting another enthusiastic nod.

“I li...liked it! I liked Abe-kun’s kisses!” Mihashi ducks his head, flushed, almost panting.

Even from such a simple response, there’s great satisfaction in finally managing to communicate _something_ to Mihashi. Even if he’s had to drag him along every step of the way. Mihashi seems happy, excited even, and Abe figures he’s probably happy just have gotten the words out. It would be nice if he wouldn’t yell about being kissed in public, though. At least they don’t wear uniforms.

Abe staunchly ignores his embarrassment and grins, gesturing to himself. “I liked it too.” Mihashi gives him another embarrassingly dreamy look, swaying closer. “So why the hell did you run away?”

Mihashi cringes. Then hunches over, looking at his hands. As if all the hard-won progress of the past few minutes hadn’t happened.

“That...I...tho...a-a-Abe-kun said...shouldn’t do, um, _that_ a-a-again. So...so that’s why...I thought???” He curls smaller, trembling. Abe waits with mounting horror, slowly grinding his teeth as he suffers through every painful stutter and hesitation. “Thought Abe- kun d-d-did so...thing he di...dn’t want to. Did it b-because of me?? I...I thought I...terrible for...for making Abe-kun do...those things. I thought... And Abe-kun d-doesn't! Doesn't have to... Just...just kiss...just kissing...” He trails off, and even if he was planning to go on, Abe’s had about enough of that.

He grabs the front of Mihashi’s shirt and drags him closer, with much squawking and flailing, until they’re almost nose-to-nose. “I said we shouldn’t do it _‘here’_ again!” he grates out, voice low but no less forceful. Mihashi quiets with a little hiccuped noise, staring back at him, big-eyed. “We were at _school_ , we could’ve been caught. Any. _Second_. Besides that, I’m the one that kissed _you_ first. How, exactly, were you forcing me to do anything?” Abe blushes, but blusters on just the same, “If anything, I was the one ordering  _you_ around.”

Mihashi gapes at him, breathing hard and cheeks pink, then looks away, answering, “B-but I liked it! So...so...so Abe-kun wa...wasn’t making me do... And...and besides...I kind of...” He’s mumbling into his shoulder, but any irritation that might have caused is tempered by the words Mihashi says next. “Li...when...Abe-kun t-told me...what...to do.”

“You like it when I tell you what to do,” he echoes. In his mind he can’t help comparing that to Mihashi enjoying his game leading, comparing the faces he's made then to... Abe quickly shuts that thought down.

Mihashi looks up again with an expression that almost resembles calm. His lips part on a puff of air that hits Abe’s lips with tantalising warmth.

 _Shit_.

He wants to kiss him...but he isn’t willing to do that right out here in the middle of the street. Grudgingly, he releases Mihashi’s shirt and pats him awkwardly on the shoulder before rising to his feet again. “Right. You’re going to stop avoiding me, then?”

“Y-yeah!” Mihashi bounces to his feet and over to his bike, startling in his sudden energy. “I...I won’t anymore. And??” He smiles shyly back at Abe. “Sometime, if...when we won’t get caught, Abe-kun will...will kiss me again?”

Abe nods and steps over to take hold of his bike again. “Yeah. I will. Don’t let it distract you too much, though! We still have an important game soon, and we need to be focused on that for now.” He glances around them, finally noticing how dark it’s become since their conversation began. “Let’s go home, Mihashi.”

* * *

 

                                            [08:56pm]  
                                            [To: Mihashi]  
                                            [From: Tajima-kun]  
                                            [Subject: What was THAT all about?]  
                                            [You ok?  
                                            You guys’ve been weeeeeird lately. (OwO)  
                                            Able ta sort it out?]

[09:13pm]  
[From: Mihashi]  
[Subject: Re:What was THAT all about?]  
[Sorry, I didn't mean to worry Tajima-kun.  
But I think everything’s fine now??]

                                            [09:13pm]  
                                            [From: Tajima-kun]  
                                            [Subject: THAT DOES’NT ANSWER MY QUESTION!!]  
                                            [It’s great if things’re better though! (=`∀ ́)人( ́◇`=)  
                                            I still wanna know what’s up!]

                                            [09:25pm]  
                                            [From: Tajima-kun]  
                                            [Subject: Hey...]  
                                            [You know you can tell me stuff, yeah?  
                                            I’ll listen.]

[09:29pm]  
[From: Mihashi]  
[Subject: Re:Hey...]  
[I know... I’m not sure,  
but I think maybe I’m not supposed to, though?  
But don’t worry please!]

                                            [09:29pm]  
                                            [From: Tajima-kun]  
                                            [Subject: UH]  
                                            [IF YOU SAY STUFF LIKE THAT  
                                            OF COURSE I’M GONNA WORRY geez.]

                                            [09:37pm]  
                                            [From: Tajima-kun]  
                                            [Subject: Miiiihaaaaaaaaaashiiiiiii]  
                                            [I’m not MAD at youre anything.  
                                            ( °∧°)/(T◇T)]

[09:38pm]  
[From: Mihashi]  
[Subject: Sorry]  
[Please don’t worry.  
I promise everything's ok??]

[09:39pm]  
[From: Mihashi]  
[No Subject]  
[Something good happened even!  
Maybe I can tell you about it later?  
But I have to check first I think.]

                                            [09:44pm]  
                                            [From: Tajima-kun]  
                                            [Subject: *squints @u*]  
                                            [*squintst @u MORE*  
                                            Ok. If you saaaaaay so. (*`へ ́*)]

* * *

 

                                            [09:44pm]  
                                            [To: kou]  
                                            [From: freckled dick]  
                                            [Subject: Re: The ~Investigation~]  
                                            [I think I got something.]

[09:47pm]  
[From: kou]  
[Subject: @_@]  
[IM ASLEEP  
FUCK OFF  
I ~DON'T~ CARE]

[09:48pm]  
[From: kou]  
[No Subject]  
[gimme the deets tomorrow]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tajima stop squinting at ur friends ur gonna ruin ur eyesight


	8. Cover

He didn't exactly mean to do it.

He just... _really_ liked having Abe's jacket draped over him. He was wet and tired and aching and frustrated that no opportunities for them to be alone together had come up in the week since they talked on the way home. With every passing day, the conversation seemed less and less real, and the likelihood that Abe would reconsider everything he’d said, would decide he didn’t want to do _any_ of that...stuff...with Mihashi again increased.

Especially when Mihashi kept messing up all the time.

It seemed like, as the Tousei game progressed, he was just aggravating Abe more and more, edging him towards outright fury. This game was _important_ , important to _Abe_ , he had _said_ so, and if Mihashi made them lose... He did his best to shake the thought off; the idea of losing what little affection Abe might feel for him was more than he could handle.

It was during Abe’s last at-bat and Mihashi was supposed to be conserving his pitiful amount of strength so he was kneeling at the back of the dugout fishing a half-eaten granola bar out of his bag.

And there it was.

On the bench in a damp rumpled heap, and it smelled like Abe and it was _his_ and he wore it but he let _Mihashi_ wear it, in front of _everyone_. He picked it up, meant to go hang it up so Abe wouldn’t have another reason to be mad at him, but then instead, found himself glancing furtively over his shoulder to make sure everyone’s attention was on the game and stuffing it into his bag under his dirty undershirts.

By the time he got home, he was so tired that he had completely forgotten about it. It was like finding a present when he blearily dumped the contents of his bag onto the bed that evening. He slept with it on over his pyjama shirt.

* * *

 

The next day, Mihashi still has the jacket on when the doorbell rings. He panics. _I'm in so much trouble. They’re going to yell at me, they’re probably_ all _here to yell at me, even Tajima, and Abe will take his jacket away and tell everyone what a pathetic weirdo I am and be angry with me_ forever _._

With courage he didn’t know he had, he shoves the jacket under his bed and wobbles his way downstairs to open the door and face whatever judgment comes.

After they eat, though, it seems like maybe things are okay? Although Abe still seems pretty mad at him... Mihashi’ll be talking with Tajima, and glance at Abe briefly, only to find him glowering at them. Mihashi worries briefly that he knows... _but there’s no way he could, right? Maybe Abe hasn't even noticed his jacket’s gone? Hopefully??_

That’s what he’s telling himself when Abe insists on helping him stretch. Which he wouldn’t do if he knew Mihashi was some kind of weirdo thieving pervert, would he?

But the effects of his lingering fever, stretching, a warm belly full of curry, and the simple, delightful, nigh unbearable pleasure of having Abe’s hands on him lull him into a fuzzy calm. He’s finally decided everything is safe as Abe slides his knee from his back, letting him sit back up. Even if Abe’s ministrations are rather ungentle, it seems impossible that he would take care of Mihashi like this if he knew about the jacket.

Abe rests his hands on his shoulders, and Mihashi’s heart skips a beat. The other three had taken the dishes into the kitchen; the door’s open, but he can’t see anyone... Maybe _now_ something will happen. Maybe kissing. Even if Abe just hugged him. Even if he just stayed like this a little longer. Even that would be pretty good. And then Abe speaks.

“Oh, Mihashi. Have you seen the jacket I wore to the Tousei game? I haven’t been able to find it.”

All his calm is dashed to pieces in an instant. Shoulders tense, he just barely manages to stop himself from making a sound. At least his back is to Abe, so he has maybe half a chance of pulling off a lie.

“Ah...oh...th-that...the one...I...I did...n’t s-see it?” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, it occurs to him he could have told the truth (with a few tactical omissions). _But then... But then I’d have to give it back_.

He can practically feel Abe’s gaze boring into the back of his head, but...he doesn’t say anything, just squeezes his shoulders a little harder. Releasing them suddenly, he gives Mihashi a little push as he shifts back and stands, moving away. “...Alright. I thought you might’ve grabbed it by accident.”

 _I...did it? It sounds like maybe Abe believes me??_ “I...no...I...it’s not...m-maybe...left it...dugout???” He has clearly established a much more likely culprit, the nefarious, unscrupulous Dugout. And then, before Abe can respond, Hanai comes back into the room and points out that it’s time for them to head back to school.

When he waves goodbye to everyone, he’s pretty sure Abe’s giving him a suspicious look. But he doesn’t say anything, and anyway, Abe’s face just kind of looks squinty and mad most of the time, so maybe he’s just misinterpreting.

After texting Shuu, he tries to stay up for a bit, but gives up when he finds himself half-sleeping instead of watching the TV show he’d turned on. He staggers upstairs and flops face-first onto his bed. After a moment, he gropes around underneath amongst all the other clothes and random items until he encounters the synthetic material of Abe’s jacket. The outside is relatively unappealing, but the lining is soft against his skin as he drags it laboriously over his head, and so cozy. Abe’s scent is intoxicating, arousing, but he’s way too tired to do anything about it right now. It’s not long before he falls blissfully asleep.

* * *

 

Leading up to the game with Tousei, the training was so intensive that Abe had neither the time nor the energy to find time to be alone with Mihashi. They hadn't even kissed since the incident in the shower room. There were times when it felt like Mihashi was just waiting for him to do it, turning giant, pathetically pleading hazel eyes on him, making him equal parts want to shake him and to grab him, pull him close, and not give a shit that they’re concealed only by chain-link fence. Much to his own disgruntlement, he does neither.

He was grateful that they'd managed to come to some kind of understanding, at least. Though it still felt like his words weren't really reaching Mihashi, that there was still some fundamental misunderstanding between them. As the days passed, bridging the gap between them seemed more and more challenging, reaching across the awkwardness, the misunderstandings, the hurt feelings to even just _talk_ with him, even just about _regular_ stuff, seemed nearly impossible.

Visiting Mihashi confirmed his suspicions. Everyone  _else_ could speak to him without getting angry, even if it took them a while to understand him. Tajima, especially, seemed to have no problem translating Mihashi and putting him at ease when need be. Abe did at least attempt to talk to him, though. They even managed to halfway engage in conversation once or twice, exasperating and idiotic though it was.

And full of bullshit at the end. There’s no _way_ Mihashi doesn’t realise how sketchy he sounded. _At least helping him stretch was good; I know he's not injured in any way, just exhausted_.

All the following day, Abe doesn’t say anything to Mihashi about the jacket, doesn’t say anything about him lying. Even when he lies. Again. About the. _Stupidest_. Things. Imaginable. But he’s not about to let it go forever, whatever ‘it’ is.

So, for the second day in a row, he finds himself at Mihashi’s front door, under the pretext of reviewing (in painstaking detail) the information gained from their game.

Although that  _is_ a conversation he does actually plan to have soon, if Mihashi’s mother isn’t home, they won’t have it today. And if Tajima hasn’t come home with him. And assuming he went home, and didn’t wander off somewhere. This is starting to sound like less of a sure plan. But it needs to happen, he _needs_ to have a better idea of what the hell is going on. Concern quickly transforming to annoyance, Abe’s eyebrows draw together, jaw tensing. He can’t understand why Mihashi would lie about his jacket, but it was obvious that there was _something_ he didn’t want to tell Abe.

He presses the doorbell, glancing over at Mihashi’s home-made practice setup while he waits.

* * *

 

Mihashi was eager to get back to school and practice, but perhaps a little prematurely. Between the exertion of the sports day activities and the hot mid-July sun, by the time he gets home, he’s feeling more than a little woozy, and decides maybe it would be good to go lie down for a bit. He sheds clothing on the way to bed, grudgingly going to the effort of pulling on his pyjamas. Then rummages around under his blanket for Abe’s jacket and puts that on too, even though he’s sweaty-hot from the bike ride home. He draws his hands back into the sleeves and pulls the collar up as far as he can so he’s about as inside of it as he can get, lies back smiling to himself, and sleeps.

A tragically short time later, the sound of the doorbell startles him most of the way awake. He’s not sure who it could be; he glances blearily at his phone, but no one's texted. _I should probably still answer, though…_ He crawls out of bed and heads downstairs, dragging the blanket with him, wrapping it around himself like a robe. (It doesn’t cross his mind that it should be a  _little_ embarrassing for a sixteen-year-old to be answering the door like that.) He calls a sleepy greeting from the stairs and hurries to answer the door.

When he opens it and sees Abe waiting there, he very nearly slams it in his face and runs.

Instead, he stands rigidly, eyes wide, fingers clutching the blanket just a little bit tighter under his chin. “H...heh?? Hel...hel...”

“Hey,” Abe replies before Mihashi manages to complete the greeting. He blinks inscrutably at Mihashi and then announces, “I’m coming in,” pushing the door open further.

Hopefully, he doesn’t rustle suspiciously when Abe brushes past him into the house. Mihashi closes the door, but can’t seem to do much more than turn, mind blank, and watch Abe stop and put down his bag so he can remove his shoes and place them neatly to the side. The silence seems to go on forever; Mihashi debates fleeing out the front door instead, but decides against it because Abe is _here_. In his _house_. And they’re _alone_. Even if he’s probably going to murder him shortly. Maybe they’ll kiss first.

After collecting his bag, Abe stands, turns to Mihashi with a stern but concerned look. “I wanted to go over the data from the Tousei batters and talk about your pitching, but are you feeling up to it?”

“Da...Tou...pi...pitches... Ah...” He doesn’t know what to do, how to respond; he doesn’t want Abe leaving, but if he stays, there’s a good chance Mihashi’s little acquisition will be discovered. Still... “I...I...we...we...we can go...yeah??” There’s got to be a way he can get the jacket off and hidden without arousing any suspicion; he’s not willing to give this opportunity up. “Um... so...in here?” he says, securing his grip on the blanket so he can flap at the door into the living room. Abe gives him and the blanket an odd look, but says nothing and after an uncomfortable moment just makes his way into the living room.

He settles down on the couch and takes a couple notebooks out of his bag, which Mihashi gives a sour look; in his nervousness, he's already half-forgottem what Abe had been proposing.

“Okay. We should go through each batter and review how our strategies played out.” He waves Mihashi over, then pats the couch cushion beside him.

Nodding with more enthusiasm than he feels, he shuffles over and carefully sits down, thankful that he’s small and the blanket is large. _Could I cozy up to Abe more? Is that okay to do? What if he felt the jacket through the fabric? He’s so close, though... But we’re supposed to be doing work._ He tries to look serious and listen and not pay attention to the way Abe’s yet again eyeing the blanket.

But again, Abe makes no comment, just flips the book open to a complicated series of notations. Then  _he_ shuffles closer to Mihashi, holding the notebook so he can see.

“We don’t need to worry about the third years, since we won’t be playing them again, so we should focus on the first and second years. We especially need to consider anyone who watched the fastball carefully...” Their legs are touching. Legs. Touching. Not like they haven’t touched more before... But that was ages ago. He can feel the warmth of Abe’s thigh, even through all the layers of fabric separating them, and it’s a bit difficult to concentrate on what he’s saying. _Would it be okay to lean against him a little? Would Abe get annoyed? I kind of started doing it already, so hopefully not. But the jacket...! Plan...a plan...plan..._

Mihashi jumps up, swaying for a moment before turning to Abe and exclaiming, “Ah...ah... drink?? T-t-t-tea! I’ll...make...” That seems pretty believable. Abe’s giving him a bland, unimpressed stare, but at least it’s not that suspicious look from before. Rigidly, Mihashi edges out from behind the coffee table and stalks into the kitchen. Turning on the tap unnecessarily high, he leaves the kettle filling and tries to decide which cupboard he can most quickly and quietly stash the jacket in. _What if Mom finds it later...? This would all be a_ lot _easier if I could think clearly..._

The sound of rushing water might obscure the noise of him rummaging around, but it also means he misses the sound of Abe dropping the notebook on the table and following him to the kitchen.

When he hears Abe’s perplexed, “Mihashi?” he freezes, crouched in front of a cupboard full of pots. He swivels his head slowly, eyes like saucers, to find Abe leaning loosely against one of the china cabinets, arms crossed and a mystified expression on his face. Mihashi turns slowly back to stare imploringly at a frying pan. “What are you...?”

Abe’s question seems to return control of his legs to him, and he jerks upright. “I...I was...I...that is...ah...ah...” he gasps out, trying to decide whether to turn and face Abe or not.

The kettle mercifully starts overflowing, and he hurriedly turns to the sink. But once there, he’s stuck; in order to turn the tap off, he’s going to have to expose the arm of the jacket. _Can Abe see from there?_ He quietly panics as water flows down the drain. And then Abe steps over so he's right beside him, and he’ll _definitely_ see, and he can practically _feel_ irritation radiating off of him as he peers, eyes narrowing, into the sink and then at Mihashi’s face.

Eyes not leaving his face, Abe leans over to shut off the tap with a _shunk_ that makes Mihashi jump and squeak. Abe grabs the back of the blanket. Yanks on it.

Mihashi clenches his hand tight, holding the blanket in place. Abe's eyes narrow more, and then he hauls on it harder. Mihashi draws it closer around his shoulders, scrabbling one-handed for purchase on the edge of the sink with little dismayed noises. Trying desperately to resist the steady pull on the blanket, he tugs it higher and tighter around his neck.

“Okay. That’s _enough_ ,” Abe snaps. “Why are you hiding under this blanket? Are you naked or something?” He gives the blanket another powerful yank, Mihashi squawking as the fabric slides in his hand a little. “I’ve seen you naked before, you know.” His voice starts a low growl, increasing in volume until Mihashi’s cringing, knuckles white.

“I...m  _not!_ Not...n-n-naked...not h-hi...hide...” he cries, betrayed by the vibrant shade of pink spreading across his cheeks and out to the tips of his ears. There’s no  _way_ he can let Abe see now; he’s mad already, and there’s no telling what will happen if he finds out.

“Then _why_ are you resisting so much?!” Abe yells, yanking even harder on the blanket.

Mihashi’s grip slips.

Before he can get ahold of it again, Abe pulls the blanket a few inches off him, exposing the back collar of the jacket. Mihashi yelps, letting go of the sink and trying unsuccessfully to pull the blanket up over his head.

_I want to disappear. I want to disappear. Abe’s going to hate me. Forever._

Abe who is just holding the blanket. Abe who is leaning closer to him.

Mihashi freezes; something _really_ bad is coming. Abe's breath is hot on the nape of his neck, ragged and quick with anger. When he takes a deep breath, though, the air rushes agonisingly cold over Mihashi’s skin. With both hands, Abe grabs the edge of the blanket and rips it away from his body.

“...You want to tell me why you’re wearing my jacket over your pjs.”

Abe’s voice might be a bit softer, if no less demanding, but it doesn’t make Mihashi any less terrified. “ _No!_ ” he shouts, startling both of them. “I mean!” he manages at a lower volume. “D- don’t _want_ …but...” Maybe he can save himself if he at least tries to give some kind of explanation? Not necessarily a true one. “I was...um...cold??” He turns his head minutely, watching Abe’s surprise fade and flatten into a glare.

But he just sighs, rubbing a hand against his forehead, eyebrows twitching with irritation under his fingertips. “Yeah, but that doesn’t explain why you lied to me about it. I asked you about that jacket yesterday.” He grabs the front of Mihashi’s t-shirt, hauling him up so that they’re nose-to- nose, drawing a frantic squeak out of him. “Are you trying to say you stole my jacket and tried to hide that from me just because you were _cold?_ ”

He stares back, mind full of how much he’d like to be curled in a ball on the floor right now. And also, terror and shame notwithstanding, full of the feel of Abe’s breath on his lips, his dark grey eyes boring into his own, the closeness of their bodies. _I can’t think. How do I explain this? How do I even_ begin _to explain this? I_ know _it’s stupid, there’s no real excuse..._

Nearly panting, trying desperately to think, to speak, he drops his eyes, but they light on Abe’s mouth. With his lips pulled back in a toothy snarl, it’s not the most appealing face he’s ever made, but Mihashi still gasps out a rough breath, still immediately wants that mouth on his own.

Not that anything like that is _ever_ going to happen after _this_. Hopeless, he resorts to the truth. Forces out, “Was...I...it...sme...ll...a...Abe...I...”

“Sme...? Smells? My jacket smells,” Abe replies flatly, brows drawn together in furious confusion. “How  _exactly_ does that explain why you stole it?” He tightens his grip on the front of Mihashi’s shirt, twisting his hand in the loose fabric, pulling it up. Even if his legs would move, Mihashi doesn’t think he could get away.

“Ah...I got...sca... Thought Abe-kun would ch-change his…change his mind…regret... And...so...wanted f-fee... close...Abe-ku...un...” Looking desperately at Abe, Mihashi tries to gauge if _any_ of this is making sense to him. It had better, because he doesn’t have much else in him. Squeezing his eyes shut, face beet red, he takes a trembling breath and blurts out, “You smell really good!”

Abe makes a vague, somewhat flustered noise. He slowly shifts his hold from Mihashi’s shirt to the open front of the jacket. Mihashi risks opening one eye, watching warily as Abe lifts one side, eyeing it curiously before slumping over suddenly with a long-suffering sigh. He presses his forehead into Mihashi’s shoulder, drawing a sharp inhale from him, and then slides his hands down until they’re loosely holding the bottom hem of the jacket.

“You stole my jacket because it smelled like me.” Abe’s hands are tantalisingly near where his shirt’s still kind of rucked up, the small sliver of stomach bared when he hauled Mihashi close, and it’s a bit difficult to focus on what he’s saying. “...Have you been wearing that to bed?” His voice is slightly muffled, gentler than before.

“I...di-did??” _Was that a good thing? It made Abe less mad??_ “Yeah. I...” he starts, wanting to offer further explanation, but finding himself unable. Abe’s hair is tickling his cheek, which draws his attention to how close his skin is to his mouth. He turns his head a little, inhaling deeply. _Maybe I can...just..._

Abe tightens his grip on the jacket, practically pulling at it now. “Ah, damn it...” he groans against Mihashi’s shoulder. _Quick! Before he remembers about being mad!_ “You are just so...” Abe trails off, inhaling a slow, stuttering breath when Mihashi turns his head just a little more, lips making light contact with the side of his neck.

 _Success?_ Abe drops the hem of the coat abruptly and instead, pushes up Mihashi’s rumpled shirt to settle his hands on his waist. _Success!_ He shivers delightedly and makes enthusiastic noises against Abe’s neck in between quick, light kisses. Struck with an overwhelming urgency, Mihashi wedges his fingers into the front pocket of Abe’s pants, tugging. He seems startled, almost frozen, but doesn’t move to stop him.

 _More contact. More. Touching now_. He pushes up on Abe’s shoulder, dipping awkwardly so he can chase him upright with insistent kisses. After a moment, Abe shakes free of whatever held him still, shifting closer and tilting his head to meet his kisses with a low noise.

But, remembering the last time, Mihashi shifts his attention back to Abe’s neck, leaving a spitty trail of kisses down his jaw and over his throat. Whatever he can do to get this, get Abe shuddering with a soft murmur of noise, get him tipping his head back to bare his throat, get him responding to Mihashi’s insistent tug on his pants. Get him crowding close, turning them until he’s got Mihashi caught against the counter with his hips, a delicious contrast between the cool, unyielding surface behind him and the warm press of Abe’s body against his. _Much better._

Palms hot, Abe slides his hands up Mihashi’s sides to smooth them over his ribcage, then back down to his waist, earning a hum of pleasure against the skin of his neck. Mihashi’s own skin feels hot, electric wherever Abe touches, urging him on in his assault. His dick is pressing against the hollow of Abe’s hip, and he tries not to let himself rub against him, because that feels too demanding. Focus instead on exploring the hollow of Abe’s throat, the spot just behind his jaw under his ear, the corner of neck and shoulder. Places that now seem so much more wondrous on another's body. Abe moves his head, shifting easily to accommodate him, exhaling soft, sudden rushes of breath with each kiss. His touch on Mihashi’s sides is heavier, insistent, almost pushing against him, and it sets his pulse racing even faster.

Hands on Abe’s hips to steady himself, he trails his lips up to Abe’s ear and murmurs something incoherent (possibly ‘more’) into it, and then, lifting his arms above his head, “Off.” He’s suddenly hot, too hot, and clothing is an inconvenience anyway.

“Pushy,” Abe replies, seeming reluctant as he pulls his hands from under his shirt, and there’s half a moment of panic, thinking that he’s annoyed by Mihashi’s demand. But the enthusiasm with which he grips the back of the jacket is reassuring. Pulling it free before tossing it onto the counter, he catches the hem of the T-shirt and yanks it off him too, dropping it on top of the jacket. Blissfully freed, Mihashi leans back, blinking hazily at Abe, who is significantly pinker than normal. He’s looking down the length of his torso, and Mihashi’s suddenly embarrassed, recalling how mad Abe got about his weight yesterday. _I wish I had my shirt back on, wish I could cover my body, wish—_

His train of thought is abruptly cut off because Abe’s hips jerk, nudging against him, and he can feel his dick hard through his soft pants. It rips a loud moan out of him, and Mihashi’s startled by how much of a turn-on it is, dropping his eyes to stare, open mouthed, at Abe’s crotch. _Did this happen last time? Did I somehow not notice this amazing thing happening?_ Abe leans in, catching his mouth in a kiss, drawing another moan out of him when he bites gently at his lower lip. It almost distracts him, but he's too curious, he wants to _touch_ , sliding a hand between them and feeling the outline of his erection, fascinated.

Abe makes a tight, surprised noise, tensing. Mihashi draws back enough that he can see Abe’s face, wondering if he should ask. _But...he would tell me if something was wrong, so it must be fine._ He seems fine. He’s trailing his hands up to rest one on Mihashi’s shoulder, the other curling around the side of his neck, thumb pressed lightly against his throat. That reminds him that they could be kissing again, so he does, mouth open in an invitation that Abe accepts immediately, licking into his mouth, sliding their tongues together with a wet, slick sound.

Slowly rubbing his dick, giving it a light squeeze, Mihashi pulls his hand free, grabbing at Abe’s hips as they jerk forwards. Abe shifts, adjusting their position, and then their dicks are pressed together through fabric and it’s really, _really_ good the way he’s pushing against him, his kisses aggressive, insistent. Mihashi pants out moans between kisses, his hand moving almost of its own accord, skimming down to cup Abe’s butt.

Abe breaks the kiss abruptly. “Fuck, Mihashi,” he whispers sharply against his mouth. Mihashi’s eyes open wide. _Wrong?_ He jerks his hand away just as Abe grabs his other wrist, yanking it, agitatedly snapping out, “If you’re gonna do that then use both hands.” Mihashi resists his pull, confused, leaning back so he can try to read Abe’s face. But he can only meet his heavy-lidded, hazy stare briefly, smiling uncertainly and dropping his gaze quickly. He doesn’t understand. _I probably, I_ must _have screwed up somewhere. Was it just that I didn’t use both? Or that I touched Abe at all? I didn’t really last time; was that what I was supposed to do, or...? But even if it's okay, what if… I’ll just do it wrong..._

Maybe he should ask. “Um.” _Are you allowed to ask? Is that what people do?_ Abe’s stopped tugging on his wrist. “A...Abe-kun? I-is...this...a-a-are you h-ha... I’m s-sor...sor...sorry if I... wasn’t supposed to touch?”

Holding his breath, Mihashi flicks his eyes up to find Abe giving him another bland look, his jaw clenching. He grabs Mihashi’s other wrist, dragging it down until both his hands are splayed awkwardly against his butt.

“I _said_ to use both hands, didn’t I? You wanted to touch it, so _touch_.” His tone is sharp and his irritation is obvious, but still, his hips jerk forward, pushing his erection against Mihashi’s. Which is right, which should he be responding to, Abe’s words, his movement...or his voice, his expression? He’s really confused, but Abe’s groaning in an intriguing way, hips twitching, and maybe it’s better to just not try to figure it out right now, just go with the answer he _wants_.

“O...okay...” He hurries to show he’s understood Abe’s directions, shifting his hands to a more comfortable position and squeezing. Feeling the firmness of Abe’s muscles underneath soft flesh is reward enough, but even better is Abe with his mouth falling open on a panting gasp and hips driving him ungently against the counter. Mihashi yelps, but then tilts his hips with a moan, rubbing up against Abe as he presses his dick against him, holding like that for longer this time. When he relaxes back, the lack of contact is unacceptable, so Mihashi experimentally pulls him close, rolling his hips into the press of their bodies. The movements don’t quite match up, but it’s good anyway, drawing gasps from both of them. He tugs his hips forward again, and they move together less clumsily each time, Abe pushing back into his hands and then rocking against him deliciously.

It feels like a very long time since the clubroom, even since the last time he came on his own, and his toes curl, push against the wood floor, fingers twitching, denting the warm softness of Abe’s butt. Mihashi’s eyes flick up to hold Abe’s gaze briefly, and he blushes, forcing out, “I...I...I’m... don’t th-think I can...” It’s embarrassing how quickly he’s on the verge of coming, but it doesn’t stop him from rubbing up against Abe again and again.

“It’s...fine. I want you to come,” Abe says quietly, leaning his forehead against Mihashi’s and then lifting his arms to curl them around his shoulders. He can only moan in response, cheeks burning as Abe presses his own cheek against Mihashi’s, panting. _If Abe wants it, then it’s okay! I'll do whatever I can, whatever Abe might like, make him happy, not keep making him mad all the time…_

His hands stray, a little jerkily, up toward the small of Abe's back, impeded by their movements and a lingering undercurrent of franticness. He hesitates, but Abe’s tucked his face against his neck, kissing down from his ear to the curve of his shoulder, so it’s probably alright to keep going. Mihashi skims the curve from Abe’s back all the way down to what he can reach of the back of his thighs, getting a low, pleased hum in response, lips pressing soft against his neck. Relieved, he starts to relax as he slides his fingers back and forth along that borderline, hoping for more reassuring noises. Then, guided by some vague thought, Mihashi presses his fingers against the back seam of Abe’s pants, dragging them slowly up. Abe’s mouth opens against his skin on a tense noise before he bites down on his shoulder, muffling the sound. Mihashi's eyes go wide; the unexpected feel of teeth makes him cry out, hips twitching, but it somehow only makes him more intent on pushing his fingers down again, rubbing as Abe blatantly tilts his hips to press into his touch before grinding hard against his dick. Pants are inexcusably in the way, and a small part of Mihashi would very much like to do something about that, his other hand slipping up to grab the waistband of Abe's pants. But most of him is carried on a dizzying euphoric rush that stops him from doing much more than rock against Abe, panting into his hair.

Abe shoves him hard against the counter, shifting his arms around his shoulders to squeeze him tight against him. Mihashi notices vaguely that it hurts, but it seems unimportant in the face of how amazing it feels to be trapped here, skin slick with their mingled sweat, Abe fucking against him with short, rough movements. Head tilted back, gasping for air, he just wants to come. With a stuttered cry, Mihashi’s hands tense, pull Abe close, the wordless sound resolving into his name. Abe bites down, hard this time, a shudder running through him, and the pain _should_ pull Mihashi down, but it just melds with the wave of sensation breaking over him, overwhelming him as he comes. So all-consuming that he almost misses Abe coming, silent except for a sharp inhale, pressing his cheek against Mihashi’s throat as his hips twitch.

He shakily slides his arms up around Abe’s ribs, feeling the way his body is trembling with something close to awe. It’s not entirely clear who’s holding whom up at that point, and really, they’d both be on the floor without the counter behind him. Abe’s hair sticks to Mihashi’s neck and jaw, and despite the slowly cooling sweat on their skin and soaking through Abe’s shirt, he’s still _way_ too hot, but he’s not about to move. Neither, it seems, is Abe, still except for exhaling a sudden heavy rush of air against the side of his neck. Mihashi rubs his face against his hair, inhaling deeply, smiling to himself.

After a few minutes just leaning against each other, Abe slowly lifts his head and presses a kiss to the quickly purpling bite mark. He pulls back in a way that feels maybe a little reluctant. But probably it’s just Mihashi who doesn’t want to let go. He blinks lazily at Abe, admiring the way he drags a hand back through his already mussed hair.

Looking down at himself, Abe wrinkles his nose, and even _that_ is incredibly appealing. “I’m a mess. Will it be okay if I shower here?” His voice is low, relaxed, and faintly sleepy, and Mihashi almost wants to say no and suggest just taking a nap on the floor instead. But sleeping would mean missing out on this unusually sedate Abe. And also it would probably be a little uncomfortable. And awkward when Mom came home.

Instead, he mumbles, “Yeah...um, come with me...” He hesitates for a breath, then smiles shyly and takes Abe’s hand, tugging him down the hall to the bath. As they walk down the hall, Abe squeezes his hand lightly, palms warm where they press together, and when Mihashi glances out of the corner of his eye at him, he’s smiling a little. It makes his heart thump in his chest, and he’s blushing when they get to the door to the bath.

Where he freezes.

Unnoticed, Abe stands behind him, blinking at the back of Mihashi’s head in confusion.

 _I should wash too, I suppose, and we wash together at school all the time, but... Is it weird to do that together at home?? It feels sort of... Is that okay? Maybe I should leave right now, so Abe doesn’t have to tell me to... But maybe Abe would_ like _washing together?? I certainly would. Maybe...maybe I could help Abe clean, and get a chance to touch him more before he leaves... But maybe Abe would hate that??_

His thoughts are cut off when Abe’s arm comes abruptly into his field of vision, making him jump, reaching past him to slide the door open. Abe carefully shoulders past him, beginning to unbutton his shirt, but then stares back at Mihashi with a perplexed expression.

“Mi-ha-shi. What are you doing? Get in here and clean up, too.”

Mihashi shakes himself and edges his way into the room, sliding the door shut behind him. Stomach bubbly with happy excitement, he gives Abe a shy smile, but he's already turned away.

He kicks off his shorts easily before starting to pull off his underwear. But his fingers encounter slight resistance, stickiness holding the waistband against his skin in an unexpected place. Investigating while keeping a close watch on Abe, he discovers a broad scrape across his back just under his hipbones. It hurts a little when he pokes it, but it’s probably nothing to worry about.

He has a feeling he shouldn’t let Abe see, though. Mihashi eyes him again as he slips off his underwear, making sure he hasn’t noticed anything’s up. And also maybe just wanting to stare at him a little. That too.

His underwear dangles forgotten from his hand as he watches Abe slide his pants off, appreciating the contrast of his dark arms against the lighter skin of his thighs, momentarily fascinated by the wiry hair on his shins as he steps out of his pants. Mihashi stares as Abe bends to grab his pants, giving him an excellent view of the plush curve of his butt. The bright blue fabric looks soft, and there’s a contrasting white seam up the back that makes Mihashi’s fingers twitch, thinking of the noise Abe made when he ran his fingers along there. Unfortunately, Abe stands again, folding his pants and tossing them on top of his other clothes. Still unaware of Mihashi’s eyes on him, he slides his thumbs under the waistband of his boxer-briefs, grimacing a little when come makes them stick to his skin. He slips them off slowly enough that Mihashi has plenty of time to admire the way the waistband stretches a little over his butt, the shift of his leg muscles as he lifts his feet, the curve of his back as he stands. He folds his underwear as carefully as possible, containing the mess before placing them next to his pants. And then glances over his shoulder at Mihashi, eyebrows raised.

Mihashi blushes, averting his eyes. Although it occurs to him that maybe it’s okay to watch him now. _I could ask? But I've been looking at him like this for a long time, now, and if I bring it up, I might have to admit that, and there’s a chance_ that _would be bad... Even if now it was okay. How does this stuff work? What even_ is _this, anyway?? Are we dating now?_

_Does it count as dating when we haven’t really gone on a date?_

He realises he’s been standing there staring into space with a handful of dirty laundry while Abe has collected a wash towel and settled down on a seat. Mihashi grabs his shorts, slipping his clothes into the hamper (while making a note to volunteer to do the laundry). He dithers a moment about where, and how, to sit, finally arranging himself on a stool not quite facing Abe and becoming extremely focused on scrubbing his arms.

Even though he knows Abe’s seen his dick, he still reflexively hides, but keeping both that and the scrape out of view is a little nerve-wracking. He scoots his stool back a little.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Abe giving him an odd look as he drapes his towel over his knees. But Abe just sighs and fills a container with water, dumping it over himself. Instantly forgetting his anxiousness, Mihashi turns to watch rivulets run down over Abe’s back and shoulders, watch him refill the container and empty it over his head, water flattening his hair and running down over his face.

He scrubs his face with the towel, then leans back and looks over at Mihashi. “Hey, is your mom out late tonight? We should soak in the bath for a while if we have time.”

Mihashi drops his container of rinse water with a clatter, goggling at Abe with a disproportionately startled expression. “M-m-Mom... Yeah, she,” he smiles shyly at the floor for a moment. “Late...yes.” He looks back at Abe with a comically earnest expression. “I...I...I would like that! To have a bath. With Abe- kun.”

“Okay. Good. Your bath is a nice size for two people, too.” He nods definitively and turns away, a light flush on his cheeks, grabbing soap. Now he’s the one unnecessarily focused on scrubbing himself down thoroughly. He pours more water right over his head, rinsing away all the suds before he glances over his shoulder at Mihashi. Catching him watching hungrily again. Abe stares back at him a while with a thoughtful expression, but then with another sigh, rises from the seat and steps over to remove the cover from the bath.

Mihashi does his best to speed through the last of cleaning as Abe tests the temperature of the water, and, seeming satisfied, climbs in.

As he sinks into the warmth, water drips from his hair onto his face, plinking into the bathwater, loud even over the sound of Mihashi’s frantic scrubbing. With a relaxed groan, Abe tilts his head back until it touches the edge of the tub.

Skin pink, shivering, Mihashi clambers into the bath, wincing when the water hits his back. Abe lifts his head to watch him, but Mihashi’s reaction goes unnoticed, or at least unremarked. Once he’s in, though, the water feels amazing; drawing his knees up in front of him, he releases a happy sigh, eyelids fluttering closed.

Abe’s foot nudges his thigh. “Don’t curl up in a ball like that.”

“Ah?? Mm.” Mihashi sinks down, embarrassed, but extends his legs alongside Abe’s anyway, enjoying the slide of their wet skin against each other. Dipping his chin, he peeks at Abe through damp strands of hair. He looks really cool, leaning an elbow on the side of the tub as he gazes steadily at Mihashi.

“That’s better,” Abe says with a lopsided smile, making Mihashi blush and look down.

He’d like to climb into Abe’s lap, snuggle up against him, but from here, he can admire him fully as he leans back again. And also there’s no chance he’ll be pushed away if he stays over here. Although the way Abe’s legs press against his as he sinks further into the water seems almost on purpose...

They stay like that a long while, enjoying the rare moment of peacefulness, connection between them. The warmth and tranquil atmosphere is making him feel sleepy again, and Mihashi shakes his head, spraying droplets of water.

Abe is the one who finally breaks the silence. “Ah, right,” he says, looking up, “I might need to borrow some underwear. You probably have some that will fit me.”

He blushes, not really knowing why. “That would...that's... I should...” Maybe because the idea of Abe wearing his underwear is oddly exciting. The idea of Abe in underwear is pretty exciting, period. Or not in underwear. Mihashi flicks his eyes down, cheeks flushing darker.

Abruptly, he shoots up, splashing water around and making Abe flinch. Hands fisted in front of his chest, he babbles out, “Should... I should get them? Now!?” Then sways, light-headed.

Abe rolls his eyes at him as he reaches out to steady him with a hand on his hip. “Right. Don’t faint here, please,” he grumbles as he stands and steps out of the tub. Turning, he holds his hands out to Mihashi, who grabs them gratefully, one eye squeezed shut at the blood still pounding in his head. “Time to get out. You need new clothes anyway, so we’ll get changed in your room.” Once he’s out, he expects Abe to step away. But he doesn’t and they stand there, still holding hands, for an awkwardly long moment, the radiant heat between their bodies almost as good as touching. Flushed, Mihashi sidles away to grope blindly on a shelf behind himself for some towels.

Towels tucked around their waists, Abe with his folded clothes in his arms, they arrive in Mihashi’s room. He immediately goes to poke around in the closet for some underwear. Hearing the door shut behind them makes his stomach feel funny; _Abe is here, in my room, just the two of us. Mostly naked, even!_ Never mind what they were doing not long ago in the kitchen; this feels even more momentous.

Finding a suitable pair, he turns to find Abe standing with arms crossed next to his desk, clothes neatly piled on the chair, lit by late afternoon sunlight as he gives Mihashi’s messy bed a bemused look.

He feels a little embarrassed, but it’s not like Abe hasn’t been in here before. But the bed reminds him. “Ah! B-blan...bla... _jacket!_ ” Flinging an unassuming pair of dark grey (and probably clean) boxers in Abe’s direction, he runs downstairs, grabs the discarded items, and hurries back up, pausing only to hitch his towel a bit higher.

Avoiding eye contact with Abe, who is squinting at him unimpressed, he drops the jacket on the couch. Just wanting to feel a bit less inelegant, he energetically shakes out the blanket onto the bed... And then stares at the lumpy result, shoulders slumping, feeling more than a little stupid.

Abe watches with a bewildered expression, then shakes his head with a quiet exhale. By the time Mihashi screws up the courage to peek over his shoulder at him, he’s already pulled on the fresh underwear, draping the towel over the back of Mihashi’s desk chair so he can grab his phone out of his pants pocket.

He turns to shoot Mihashi a stern look. “I’m going to call my parents, so you clear your bed off properly.”

“O...okay!”

Abe steps into the hallway; Mihashi can hear him speaking softly after a moment. He throws on fresh shorts and a t-shirt, and then hauls the blanket and sheet off the bed. Checking to see that Abe’s not looking, he sweeps everything off the far side of the bed, hanging off the edge to shove most of it underneath and corral a few stray baseballs. Carefully, he makes up the bed and surveys the result: it’s… _mostly_ not lumpy this time. Mihashi flops down face-first across the bed with a happy sigh, feet dangling, and turns his head to eye the doorway.

 _Is...is Abe going to stay here, then? For how long? Wait. Why did he want me to make up the bed? Are we gonna...gonna.._. He buries his bright red face in his arms, kicking his legs in excitement. Listening happily to the muffled sound of Abe’s voice, he stills, sliding back until his feet touch the floor...and completely messing up the bed he’s just made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mihashi u r a creep u r lucky ur cute (don't steal stuff kids it's not cute it's gross unless u r a small birb then maybe u can get away with it and take it home for ur nest)
> 
> Important things to know about this scene: when we were RPing it, we...kind of forgot about the sink. So they spent that entire time with the sink going full blast. How wasteful smdh Also, they're totally like. right in front of a window, here...and there's an apartment building next door...you boys better hope nobody got a free show...


	9. Reach

Abe flips his phone shut as he re-enters the room, placing it on Mihashi’s desk before snapping the door shut behind him. Looking over at Mihashi, though, he pauses. He just wants to go over there and crawl right on top of him, but his stomach is clenching with sudden nerves. The fact that Mihashi’s not looking at him, has his head buried in his arms even, is not helping. Still, he makes himself step closer until his legs are almost touching Mihashi’s.

Without warning, he grabs Mihashi’s hips. Mihashi yelps and jumps. His shirt is riding up, and low on his back, just above the waistband of his shorts, there is a long, fresh scrape, bruise dark against his pale skin.

“Mihashi,” Abe grinds out through clenched teeth, fingers curling on his hips as he attempts to scramble away. “When did you get this scrape?”

“I...ah...it was...I...” He stops trying to escape, but Abe can feel how much he’s shaking. He clenches his jaw, doing his best to breathe slow, waiting. “I-i-it...inthekitchen...”

And now Mihashi's arms are creeping up to cover his head. What the hell does he even think is going to _happen?_ He’s trying to look out for him here!

“It...it isn’t...bad! It d-d-doesn’t hurt!”

“What?!” he snaps, leaning in until he’s looming over Mihashi. “What the hell do you _mean_ , ‘doesn't’. ‘Hurt’.” Abe pauses, and he can hear the hitch in Mihashi’s breathing that means he’s starting to cry. It fills him with an overwhelming urge to yank his arms away from his head, flip him over so he’ll fucking _look_ at him already. Stop acting like something horrible is happening, stop acting like Abe’ll do _anything_ other than take care of him. “Why didn’t you say anything?! I’ve told you a hundred times to speak _up_ if you’re hurt.” Pulling his hands away from Mihashi’s hips, he plants them either side of his head. “I can’t know if I’m hurting you unless you _tell_ me.”

He opens his mouth to continue his tirade, but quickly shuts it again as he looks down at Mihashi trembling beneath him. His anger turns frigid as it dawns on him that even with everything they’ve done, Mihashi is still Mihashi.

“I did this to you,” he says quietly, tone flat. He can’t just assume things are going to be normal between them.

“S-s-sor...sorry...”

The pathetic apology makes his stomach sink. This is just a scrape, but it could have been something much worse. He didn’t even bother to tell Abe to stop when he was bleeding. Who knows what else he’d keep quiet about. Mihashi would probably let him do anything he wanted and still lie here, apologising for doing nothing. The thought makes Abe feel like he’s standing at the edge of a cliff.

“I’m s-sorry...” At least he’s still talking, hasn’t completely shut down. “It...it w-wasn... Abe-k- k-kun did...n’t...”

Abe grits his teeth, watching helplessly as Mihashi lies there sobbing.

Abruptly, Mihashi’s hand shoots out, grabbing at his. When Abe shifts to squeeze his hand back, Mihashi makes a desperate choked noise. His hand’s cold, shaking, just like he expected, but the gesture, baffling as it is, is reassuring. Then again, when he can’t trust him to tell him he’s scraped up, it’s hard to feel truly comforted.

Abe remains silent for a while, unsure of what to do or say to make Mihashi understand him. Mihashi’s sobs are quieting now, but there’s no telling what will set him off again. All he wanted was to find a way to connect with him, find a way to make him feel good, but all he seems to find are new ways for them to miss each other.

Sighing, he tilts his head forward until his forehead is pressing against Mihashi’s shoulders. He's practically laying on top of him now, provoking a pathetic hiccup and fingers tightening around his hand.

He _has_ to do this differently. At least he knows having sex makes Mihashi happy, knows he wants this. He just has to be more careful. Because Mihashi won’t be. He has to make sure he takes care of him properly.

Finally, Abe rolls off to the side, using their linked hands to tug Mihashi up against his chest. Mihashi offers no resistance, provoking feelings that are such a complicated mess he just shoves them back down without a thought. “Alright, alright. I get it.” He curls his arms around Mihashi. “Just tell me if something hurts from now on.”

Mihashi’s fingers dig into his arms. “I w-w-w... I will.” Abe’s practically squashing him against himself, but he can’t think of another way to offer comfort. Mihashi’s breathing is slowly returning to normal, though, and eventually, he loosens his death grip on his arms; gradually, Abe relaxes his hold too, until he’s hugging him normally.

Mihashi wiggles against him as if he’s trying to get closer, which isn’t possible unless one of them loses a limb or two. Abe frees an arm and tugs down a corner of the blanket before he shifts, tugging Mihashi along with him, until they’re tucked into his bed properly. He drapes his arm over Mihashi’s shoulders and tucks his face into the crook of his neck, breathing against his skin.

Mihashi nuzzles his hair with an affectionate noise, but then he’s dithering about something. It’s an annoying, almost palpable agitation, but before Abe can ask, Mihashi wriggles around until he can get an arm around his neck, sliding his other hand into his hair.

After a moment, he tentatively combs his fingers through it with a pleased little hum.

Abe presses his face against Mihashi’s skin, and if he’s breathing a little odd for a minute, quiet, irregular gasps of air puffing against his collarbone, he’s sure Mihashi won’t notice.

He seems fairly preoccupied, anyway, back tensing, hand stilling. Abe considers asking, but any answer he got would likely be incomprehensible. Or worse, set Mihashi off again. After a moment, Mihashi draws in a deep breath, then, with a little shiver, cuddles up closer to him. Abe raises an eyebrow, but relinquishes his hold long enough to tug the blanket a little higher;  _he's_ stifling, but he’ll just deal. And add this to the long list of things he doesn’t get about Mihashi.

After snuggling in dozy silence for a while longer, Abe nudges Mihashi gently. “Hey, why don’t you tell me some of the things you’d like to try doing with me.”

“Try...doing?” he mumbles sleepily. He seems to consider carefully. “Like...in games?”

“Games...?” Abe echoes, completely baffled. He makes a faintly irritated noise, embarrassed by having to explain what he thought was an obvious question. “You should think about that too, I guess, but I meant this,” he lifts a hand to gesture between them, “...sexual stuff. I want to know what you’re into.” Abe lowers his hand again, sliding it down Mihashi’s side to rest almost protectively near the scrape on his back.

“Oh,” Mihashi responds, intelligently, “um.” Abe does his best not to roll his eyes and settles in to wait. “I...I like kissing and...um...” Abe levels an incredibly unimpressed look at Mihashi’s sternum. He’s not expecting a particularly detailed answer (or, if he’s really honest, any answer at all). But something marginally useful would be good.

Apparently sensing that that was a less-than-satisfactory answer, Mihashi starts again. “Kiss... I just like...I just...a-Abe-kun’s m-m-mouth! I like it. I think...would...like it...other...parts??? And...and... It’s good when...when Abe-kun te-tells me things to... Like, um, to touch my...” He breaks off with an odd little snicker.

Abe forces himself to bite back questions or even any reassurance, worried Mihashi will stop if he’s interrupted. For once, though, he seems to have hit on a topic he’s interested in talking about. But even though he was the one who asked, with each new item Mihashi stutters through, Abe can feel himself flushing darker and darker.

And Mihashi’s still going. “Maybe Abe-kun could...could tell me to do o-o-other things...? And I like w-watch...ing...Abe-kun.” Suddenly, he hunches his shoulders up, acting like he’s just said something wrong. But before Abe can investigate, he blurts out, “Ah! I mean, I like! Like cute! Ou-ou-out... out...f-fits...” And then goes even _more_ rigid.

Abe exhales slowly and strokes Mihashi’s side soothingly. When it becomes evident he’s not getting anything more out of him right now, he says, voice relatively steady, “Okay.” And then, a few moments later, he continues, “Okay. We can do all that.” Most of the things Mihashi listed are easy to figure out. He tries not to think too much about what ‘cute outfits’ implies; he knows he’ll have to ask about it eventually, but that’s for another day. “You like watching me...?”

Mihashi jumps, and then there’s another long, silent pause between them. “I...I like... Abe-k-kun looks...r...eally, um... I? I...in the showers...” Mihashi’s hand slides out of his hair and creeps up to cover his face. “And in the...the bath, I was w-w-wa...looking at...a-a-a-Abe-kun.” Mihashi’s voice becomes slightly muffled, and Abe glances up to find him smushing his face into the pillow, what Abe can still see of him bright red. He’d probably snap at him about it if it wasn’t so interesting. “I liked it, s-s-seeing Abe-kun na-naked...and sometimes, I think about...it when...when I...”

 _Very_ interesting, though it makes Abe’s skin prickle hot with embarrassment. It doesn’t matter that he’d maybe sort of planned for Mihashi to see him in the showers, it’s different to hear about how much he’d enjoyed the sight.

“I j-just...just think...would like to see m-more of Abe-kun? If we do...do...if...if we h-h-have sex a-again...”

He continues stroking Mihashi’s side, letting his hand dip down to stroke along his back as well. He’s still really tense, like he’s expecting something bad will happen any second.

Doing his best to sound reassuring, Abe finally responds, “Yeah, I, uh, thought you might be watching. You’ll get to see me again. We just gotta stop having sex all over the place.” He kisses the back of the hand covering Mihashi’s face; much to his relief, he turns a little, peeking at him through his fingers. “Only in bedrooms from now on, Mihashi. That way I can make sure we do all the things you like.”

Mihashi pulls his hand most of the way off his face, staring at him with an awestruck expression. “I-in bedrooms... Yeah!” Then, he shifts his hand to Abe’s shoulder and leans in to press their lips together. Quick, sweet. “I would...I'd like that.”

Abe exhales a slow, relieved breath; he’d been expecting a much more difficult conversation, but for one between them, that went surprisingly easy. He leans his forehead against Mihashi’s. “Good.” As he kisses him lightly, Mihashi wiggles with a quiet happy noise. Abe’s grateful that the mood has turned again, letting them recapture some of the peace from their bath. He strokes Mihashi’s back, stopping short of the scrape before circling back to slide over his shoulders and then down again, petting him, winning himself a little chirp of enjoyment as Mihashi arches into his touch.

Mihashi kisses him again, slower, lingering, then pulls back, smiling slightly and making shifty eyes. “Um...I l-l-like this, too. This...when...when Abe-kun touches me like this.”

“Huh?” Abe replies intelligently, chasing Mihashi to kiss the corner of his mouth; he hadn’t expected him to start _volunteering_ information about what he liked... He can’t help but smirk a little as he slides his hand up the line of Mihashi’s spine again, touch firmer this time, hiking the back of his shirt up.

Considering for a moment, he rolls over, tugging Mihashi on top of him. “I’ll remember that,” he adds after a moment. Mihashi settles himself with a happy sigh, cheek cradled in the curve of Abe’s collarbone, curling one hand loosely on his shoulder and flattening the other against his chest.

Now with both hands free, he can stroke along Mihashi’s sides, touch straying down to his hips. He holds them briefly, feeling their narrowness, pressing his thumbs back along the line of exposed skin just above the waistband of his shorts. Mihashi squirms against him, mouth opening wetly against Abe’s neck with a little gasp. Abe drags his hands down until he’s skimming the sides of Mihashi’s thighs before sliding them up to circle over his back again. While he’s hyper-aware of Mihashi’s mouth on his neck, he doesn’t comment, just continues to pet him with slow, steady strokes. Each time his hands reach Mihashi’s hips, fingers slipping under his shirt to tease up his sides, his breath hitches satisfyingly, lips moving randomly against his skin. Mihashi’s hips tilt back with tiny, jerky movements, toes slowly pressing into the bed; Abe can feel them denting the mattress beside his calves, feel Mihashi’s dick getting hard against his inner thighs.

Eventually, his hands pause on his hips, hesitating as he considers the wisdom of what he wants to do. Then, slowly, he smooths his palms up the backs of Mihashi’s legs to cup his ass, lingering, enjoying Mihashi’s shaky inhale, the stuttering movement of his body as he pushes back into his hold, before shifting his hands back to his hips.

“Mm... That...more...” Mihashi mumbles against his skin, shifting, pushing against him. Then, he jumps, presses his face into Abe’s neck, shoulders hunching.

But he relaxes immediately when Abe exhales a faint amused sound and tightens his hands on his hips, squeezing him gently as he wiggles again more insistently. Abe slides his hands back onto Mihashi’s ass, down the back of his thighs, then back up to cup his ass once again, letting his hands rest there. He nudges his cheek against the side of Mihashi’s head. “You liked doing this to me too, didn’t you?” Mihashi makes a noise that’s part agreement, part moan as Abe pulls him tighter against him for a quick moment before loosening his grip.

“I li...liked touching...” As if to demonstrate, Mihashi slides his hand down Abe’s chest, curling callused fingers around his side. Then, somewhat clumsily, he pushes himself up to nudge his nose against Abe’s. “Like it a lot,” he finishes, pressing their lips together.

Abe urges his mouth open with slow swipes of his tongue as he pulls Mihashi against him again, holding him there as he moans and grinds against him. His heart pounds and he struggles to think of what he should do with this situation, how he should handle this. With a low noise, he holds Mihashi even tighter, barely leaving him with any room to move.

Mihashi sucks lightly on his lower lip, sliding his hand up to trace his jaw. But then breaks off the kiss with a questioning noise. Pushing himself up more, he searches Abe’s face, brow wrinkled. Abe meets his eyes, sliding his hands off Mihashi’s ass and freeing him from his restrictive hold at the same time.

He’s over-thinking and he knows it, and while he tries to keep his expression neutral, he’s sure his tension must be obvious when he’s being observed so closely, even to Mihashi. And he can see that whatever Mihashi thinks is going on is making him start to panic.

Suddenly, he pushes against Mihashi’s shoulder, rolling him back against the bed and pressing himself against his side before he slides his hand under his shirt to stroke over his stomach. Then down to cup his dick through the fabric of his shorts. Eyelids fluttering shut, Mihashi arches, gasping, grabbing incoherently for Abe.

He breathes out another amused noise, then a low, frustrated one. Apparently deciding clothing was no longer necessary, Mihashi has grabbed his shirt and attempted to haul it off, but forgotten useful details like sitting up. He wriggles, arches, elbows caught, mind very obviously somewhere else. Abe reaches up with his free hand to help untangle him, tossing the shirt across the bed with an offended glare. Then, he hooks his fingers under the waistband of Mihashi’s shorts and his underwear, tugging them both down at the same time. Mihashi blinks at him, panting, then his eyes widen, following Abe as he sits up to pull them off all the way. He slides them off Mihashi’s feet to be abandoned at the end of the bed.

And once again Mihashi is naked under his hands. Only this time they’re in an actual _bed_. The covers have long since fallen back from all their shuffling and Abe takes advantage of the opportunity to look down the length of Mihashi’s body as he places his hands on his thighs. It’s obvious how exposed Mihashi feels, cheeks pink, biting his lip, one arm creeping across his body as if to cover himself. Why he would act like that when he was the one so intent on getting naked in the first place, Abe can’t even begin to imagine. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with his body. His gaze trails down Mihashi’s stomach, and he finally allows himself to really look at his dick; he’s only half-hard now, but his dick still angles up appealingly from the muscled curve of his thighs and the light covering of hair. It just makes him eager to touch him, get him hard again, get him writhing under his hands, asking for more. “Huh. You’re circumcised.”

Mihashi jumps, then looks away, pressing his chin to his shoulder, both arms now crossed over his stomach. “S-s-sorry... I'm s...”

Frowning, Abe stares at him, looking down at his dick and then back at his face, at a total loss. _Was_ that _the reason...?_ He sighs, almost offended. “Don’t say stupid things. Why would it matter?” To drive his point home, he drags teasing fingers over Mihashi’s dick, drawing a staccato inhale out of him. Pushing himself up on his elbows, Mihashi finally meets his gaze, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. Abe looks away. More than ready to move on, he returns his hands to Mihashi’s thighs, grumbling out, “Doesn’t matter to me.” Hopefully, that’ll be the end of it.

He squeezes the plush curve of his thighs, touch heavy as he draws his hands down the outside of his legs, then back up to press his thumbs into the soft skin of his inner thighs. Mihashi’s legs part slightly, and he makes a needy, close-mouthed noise. Abe glances up again, catching Mihashi’s eyes and holding the contact. Shame seemingly already forgotten, Mihashi’s all curiousity, eyes flicking between Abe’s face and his hands as he slides them so they’re tucked in between his legs. Abe strokes over the soft skin and exhales a stuttering breath. His mind is still racing, but he no longer feels paralyzed by his thoughts. Instead, he’s driven by an idea about how to make this work and the incredible sight of Mihashi spread out before him.

“Spread your legs more,” he says, a command rather than a request, noting with satisfaction the way Mihashi’s dick twitches, his sharp inhale. His hasty compliance is electrifying and makes Abe feel hot all over. “Good,” he murmurs, nearly breathless. Mihashi will do what he says. Abe will be able to lead him how he needs to make this work, to make it safe for Mihashi.

Abe shifts so that he’s kneeling between Mihashi’s legs, then moves his hands up until his thumbs are pressing into the crease where hip meets thigh. He slides his thumbs over the delicate skin as he looks between Mihashi’s face and his dick. “Touch yourself again, like last time.”

Mihashi hiccups out a startled breath, eyes widening. But there’s no hesitation this time, no more hiding, even if he’s still just as embarrassed. Propping himself up on one hand, eyes flicking to Abe’s face and then away again, he spits inelegantly into his palm and then wraps his hand around the shaft of his dick.

His first few strokes are unhurried, simply spreading the wetness on his palm around as much as he can. Abe watches his face as he moves his hand more surely, gauging his reaction. When his head lolls back, Abe leans in to kiss his hipbone, placing his hands on his hips to hold him. He’s careful not to get in the way of Mihashi’s hand as he ducks his head to kiss his thighs, nipping gently, winning himself a startled gasp. “Keep it slow,” he says quietly, his lips still pressing against Mihashi’s skin. He kisses his hip again, then turns his head a tiny bit, watching from a breath away as Mihashi touches himself. Abe shifts his hips, hard in his borrowed underwear.

Mihashi whimpers; he glances up to find him watching him with a dazed expression, lips parted as he pants out shuddering breaths. Abe exhales a slow, steadying breath and leans in, only vaguely paying attention to Mihashi’s barely coherent question; it becomes completely incomprehensible anyway when he presses a wet kiss to the underside of the head of Mihashi’s dick. The skin feels thin and fever-hot in a way he hadn’t been expecting, and he licks experimentally, tongue sliding up to drag over the tip. His grip on Mihashi’s hips tightens nervously; his weight is not enough to immobilise him, but it keeps him relatively still. He can tell already this will be much easier if Mihashi doesn’t move too suddenly.

He knows that Mihashi is watching him and he looks up, pointedly meeting his stare, even though it’s _incredibly_ embarrassing. He has no idea what he’s doing, but as much as he hates that feeling, it’s gratifying to know that he’s doing something that Mihashi requested specifically. Just the same, Abe is flushed and his shoulders rise and fall with obviously strained breaths.

Mihashi’s hand has stopped moving, but he lets that slide for the moment. He kisses the tip of his dick,gently, slowly, swiping his tongue across it again before he carefully takes the head between his lips and sucks gently. Mihashi pants out a ragged breath, head tipping back, and, after a wonderful shiver runs through him, starts moving his hand again. Abe makes a low, pleased noise as he slides down a tiny bit more until the head is completely covered by his mouth, gradually sucking harder. He slides his tongue along the underside, clumsily at first, but quickly settling into a pattern. He breathes heavily through his nose and his hands flex on Mihashi’s hips, tugging lightly as if to pull him closer. Mihashi rocks his hips with the movement, moaning, then making a dismayed noise when Abe pushes him back down into the mattress.

Abe sucks steadily, tongue pressing firmly against the underside, but a few seconds later he pulls back and, with a final, lingering swipe of his tongue over the tip, he lifts his mouth away entirely. His lips are flushed pink and a tiny bit swollen; he licks them absently, wetting them before he speaks. “Want me to let you go?” he asks, voice a little rough. He flexes his fingers on Mihashi’s hips as if to indicate what he’s talking about.

Mihashi drags his eyes up from Abe’s mouth, blinking at him dazedly. Then suddenly makes a distressed face and shakes his head vigorously. “I...I don’t! I wasn’t... It’s! It’s good like this...”

Abe narrows his eyes, then lifts one hand from Mihashi’s hip so he can gently tug his hand away from his dick. “...So lying to me  _here_ isn’t going to work any better,” he grumbles as he stares up at Mihashi. “If you want me to let you go, you just have to say so.”

Chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath, Mihashi avoids his eyes, and he just _knows_ he’s getting some weird idea about what he was trying to say.

“I...I...thought I...I’m sorry...s-sorry...” Mihashi chokes out.

Abe just stares for a moment, stunned to find him almost in tears. Fingers tightening on Mihashi’s hip, he grates out a frustrated noise. And gets a fearful squeak in response. Mihashi shrinks in on himself, twisting away from him, tugging his hand out of Abe’s grip to curl it against his mouth.

He forces himself to take a slow, calming breath, smooths his hands over Mihashi’s hips, across his stomach, and back again. “It...it’s okay,” he manages, using as pleasant a tone as possible, “I’ll let you go.” As he speaks, he wraps one hand around the base of Mihashi’s dick, squeezing it lightly. Mihashi inhales sharply, but doesn’t move. “Look at me again.” He presses his lips to the side of Mihashi’s dick, waiting patiently until he peeks at him. Then, he licks up the length to kiss the tip again. Mihashi lets out a shaky breath, finally facing him.

He’s making that embarrassing awe-struck face again. “Ah...I! I...Abe-kun is...”

All in a rush, Mihashi curls forward, grabbing Abe’s shoulders, pushing him up. He has time to get out a startled “Wha...?” before Mihashi kisses him, answering his question.

It’s not their best.

Still pretty good.

He shifts, propping himself up one-handed so he can kiss Mihashi properly. He strokes his dick slowly while they kiss, hoping to keep Mihashi happily distracted from whatever was bothering him. Abe can’t help but think about how he’d had his mouth on Mihashi’s dick just seconds ago as he opens his mouth into the kiss and sucks lightly on Mihashi’s lower lip, as he listens to the quiet pleased noises Mihashi makes.

Mihashi slides a hand up Abe's neck, cupping the back of his head, keeping him close as he leans back on one hand. Then, tentatively, he rocks his hips up, pushing his dick into Abe’s fist.

As Mihashi thrusts up into his hand, Abe breaks the kiss gradually and glances down, smiling slightly. “That’s better,” he murmurs, relieved. He kisses his lips one last time and slides down to kiss his stomach instead, Mihashi leaning back out of the way, fingers lingering in his hair a moment. Abe stops stroking his dick, just holding it in a steady grip; Mihashi stills as he presses his damp lips to the tip once again. Exhaling slowly through his nose, he slides his free hand onto Mihashi’s thigh to steady himself before slowly opening his mouth in invitation.

Abe groans around Mihashi’s dick when he first pushes into his mouth, his breath coming in a panicked pant until he adjusts to the new angle, the less controlled movement of Mihashi’s hips. There’s a brief but not injurious encounter with teeth; Abe opens his mouth wider, trying his best to use his lips to keep them shielded. Gradually, he begins to suck each time Mihashi pulls back, tongue slicking along the underside when he pushes back in. He grips the bedsheets on either side of Mihashi’s hips, pulling slowly, careful not to interfere with his movement. His jaw aches already, he’s still having trouble breathing evenly, and he can feel spit spreading across his lower lip, but having Mihashi fuck his mouth like this is unexpectedly hot, and he finds himself making another low, strained noise.

It inspires a particularly loud moan in response. Mihashi’s little noises seem to increase in volume, and his hips move faster, more surely; he can hear his fight to keep some control of his movements in his tight gasps, his frantic little cries. The noisier he gets, the more eager Abe gets, until he’s moving with him, shifting his head to allow Mihashi’s dick further into his mouth each time he pushes in. He chokes himself slightly, making a tight coughing sound, but he only pulls back a tiny bit, not wanting Mihashi to stop; he seems not to have noticed, anyway, and Abe’s not quite sure whether he’s offended or relieved by that.

Mihashi trembles, seems to give up on holding himself up; Abe pauses, panting open-mouthed as, jerkily and rather unsuccessfully trying to keep moving his hips, Mihashi falls back on the bed. Once he’s lying, his little thrusts even out, his dick now sliding more easily into Abe’s mouth; he hums a vague pleased sound.

But the smoothness of Mihashi’s movements gradually evaporates, his thighs flexing, legs drawing up towards his body, only to tremble, slip back down again. His enjoyment is intoxicating; Abe can feel Mihashi’s hands rucking up the sheets beside his own, feel... Feel him wedge his toes under Abe’s thighs. Surprised by the contact, his hips jerk and he pulls harder on the bed sheets as Mihashi’s feet press against the backs of his thighs, as though trying to pull him closer. He swallows his spit, tongue pressing firmly against Mihashi’s dick, and exhales a harsh breath, mouth opening a little more. He closes his lips quickly, though, sucking once again, oblivious to the dazed but curious look Mihashi’s giving him. He’s achingly hard, but he has no intention of letting Mihashi know that at the moment, not when he’s already so happily occupied.

Shaking a hand free of the bedsheets, he demandingly pulls one of Mihashi's hands onto his head. He doesn’t look up to request or explain anything, just sucks as Mihashi slides out of his mouth, not letting him pull back very far before he’s sliding his mouth back down again. Mihashi takes a moment to react, blinking down at him in confusion, but then buries his hand in his hair with a moan. He runs his fingers through his hair in a vague, distracted way, which is perfectly acceptable; Abe hadn’t exactly had anything specific in mind, just wanted Mihashi to touch him more. Pulling lightly, Mihashi twists strands around his fingers before releasing them to comb his fingers through his hair once more.

Panting out a moan that fades into a shaky inhale, Mihashi pauses with his hips off the bed, toes spreading, digging into the back of Abe’s thighs. Though he keeps moving, Abe flicks his gaze up, not about to miss it if he’s coming, but Mihashi relaxes with a gasp, feet slipping, one toe catching in the leg of Abe’s underwear. Mihashi chokes out a rough cry, fingers clenching in Abe’s hair, hips jerking up to push his dick deep into Abe’s mouth. Abe makes a strangled noise, writhing a bit, his dick twitching as he quickly scrapes his fingers along the outside of Mihashi’s thighs.

Mihashi jerks his hand away, curling it in front of his mouth as he props himself up on the other elbow, starting, “I...m sorry...didn’t m-m-mean...”

Abe remains still for a moment, with Mihashi’s dick just short of choking him, before he pulls back with a heavy, panting breath. He has to stop himself from speaking, afraid that anything he says will just scare Mihashi off even more. He’s already looking down at him with a terrified expression, and when Abe meets his eyes with a disapproving stare, he drops his gaze immediately.

Then blushes vibrantly, staring...somewhere between them, then flicks wide eyes back to Abe’s face, and down once more. But his fearful expression has faded, so before he can find another reason to get upset, Abe pointedly reaches out to grab hold of Mihashi's hand again, forcing it back onto his head before he slowly rolls his wet tongue over the head of his dick. It provokes a satisfying cry in response, and Mihashi obediently winds his fingers in his hair again.

He seems more relaxed than before, lying back so he can reach his other hand to stroke the side of Abe’s head, thumb skimming over his temple. Each breath shudders out of Mihashi, his fingers moving over Abe's skin in intoxicating softness. Abe slides his hands over the outside of his thighs, fingertips curling to gently scrape his nails over his skin. Mihashi cups his cheek, and Abe unconsciously tilts his head into his hand, making a sound low in his throat as a pleased shiver runs down his spine. His jaw aches, and he’s sure there’s spit on his chin now, but he can easily ignore these things when Mihashi seems to be enjoying himself so much, his hips thrusting up more surely now as he grits out a rough sound.

Mihashi cups his face in both hands, stroking his cheeks with an absent impatience, earning himself another low noise. Abe peers up at him, glassy-eyed, through bangs that are starting to stick to his forehead with sweat. Moaning, Mihashi meets his gaze as he runs his hands through Abe’s hair, holding the eye contact as he cups the back of his head then finally slides his hands down his neck to cling to his shoulders. Abe pants, short, strained little breaths as Mihashi pushes into his mouth with growing urgency, his feet now planted firmly on the bed. Careful to keep Mihashi’s dick from sliding too far into his mouth, he keeps his head back a little, though he does nothing to slow him. He shifts his hands, holding Mihashi’s thighs to keep himself stable as his thrusts become more and more erratic. A faintly bitter flavour is smeared across his tongue, lost to be swallowed with his spit. Mihashi’s breath is ragged, almost sobbing, and hearing it, Abe squeezes his thighs as if to comfort him. Perhaps Mihashi squeezes his shoulders back, or perhaps it’s just part of the sudden wave of tension that pulls his stomach taut, leaves him trembling and gasping incoherently as he comes. Abe flinches, surprised by the rush of come into his mouth, but he swallows most of it down, not wanting to deal with any more mess than necessary. Slowly, he pulls back, letting Mihashi’s dick slip from his mouth with one final, gentle suck.

Momentarily exhausted, he cushions his cheek on Mihashi’s thigh and looks up at him, watching his face in the afterglow of his orgasm. Well... At first, all he can see is his chin, until Mihashi tips his head to look at him, eyes vague, chest still heaving with uneven breaths, hair sticking up ridiculously. Abe himself is a mess, flushed, lips darker still and faintly smeared with come. There’s spit on his face, he’s sure, and his eyes are watery and heavy-lidded. Still, as Mihashi’s eyes finally focus on his face, his expression is soft with affection, and it fills Abe with a warm satisfaction, makes the ache in his jaw more than worth it. He’s still painfully hard, and he shifts a bit to try and relieve some of the pressure where his dick is squashed between his thighs and his stomach.

Abruptly, Mihashi pushes himself up, staring at him with a look Abe’s too aroused to interpret, to even try to think about. “I didn... I...s-so...should...I...” Mihashi babbles out, then apparently gives up. Looking perplexingly apologetic with his lip caught in his teeth, he tugs on Abe’s arm insistently.

He lets him pull him close, but before he can do anything else, Abe sets his hands on his shoulders, pushing him down pin him back against the bed. “Lay down and stay like that,” he says, voice rough, then releases Mihashi. He pushes his hands under the waistband of his borrowed underwear and slides them down, shifting so he can slip them off his feet. Looking up, he meets Mihashi’s entranced stare briefly before swinging a leg over his hips, straddling him. Unable to help himself, his hips twitch forward, and he hisses out a strained breath. Not giving Mihashi a chance to touch him, he curls his hand around his own dick, stroking steadily.

Mihashi’s eyes range over his body, briefly settling on his face with a look of awe before trailing back down to Abe’s crotch. Panting, Abe watches Mihashi watch him, watches the way his hands twitch and then grab at the sheets, watches his cheeks flush. He pulls his hand away so he can lick his palm before curling it back around his dick, already starting to stroke quicker. “Just watch.” Mihashi nods; his breath hasn’t slowed, and Abe can feel the tension of his body against his thighs, his ass. His hips slowly roll forward, pushing into his own hand, and he groans, clenching his teeth against the sound. Precome smears over his thumb as he continues stroking and he shivers, simultaneously embarrassed and incredibly aroused to be jacking off while sitting right on top of Mihashi.

Who swallows hard, who squeezes his eyes shut, who opens them again to look at Abe with an anxious expression.

He’s caught off guard and his hand slows until he’s no longer stroking himself, just holding his dick in a light squeeze, staring down at him wide-eyed, waiting.

“Um, a-Abe-kun?”

He blinks at Mihashi, nearly frantic in his confusion as he leans in toward him. “What? What is it now? Am I too heavy?” he pants out, shifting his hips impatiently, the curve of his ass pressing against Mihashi’s hipbones.

Startled and derailed, Mihashi’s only answer is, “Ah?!” He squirms a little under Abe, then shakes his head vigourously. “N-no! Um. I just...I want...” Avoiding eye contact, he stares at Abe’s hand for a moment, evidently very worried about _something_ , and then continues, “I...can I...maybe...” He blushes even brighter, fingers curling and uncurling on the sheets, and tilts his head to peek up at Abe out of the corner of his eye. “T-touch Abe-kun? Please?”

“Oh,” Abe replies, his impatience melting away in the face of Mihashi’s earnest request, though he's still puzzled. He hesitates before saying anything more, assessing Mihashi with a critical look. “...Yeah. Touch if you want to. Watch the angle so you don’t strain your wrist, though.” His dick twitches against his palm as he squeezes one final time before pulling his hand away completely. Relief washes over Mihashi’s face, though he seems a little hesitant about just launching in, drawing his hand up against his chest and blinking up at Abe. Exercising an inhuman level of restraint, Abe says nothing, just spreads his legs a little more, putting his weight more fully on Mihashi now he’s sure he’s not squashing him.

Curiousity and eagerness seem to be winning out over Mihashi’s anxiety pretty quick (though not quite as quick as he'd like). Abe keeps his hands out of the way and watches with as much patience as he can manage with his dick so achingly hard. He exhales a tightly controlled breath when Mihashi presses his palms to his inner thighs, muscles twitching beneath his fingertips as he slides them up to rest either side of his dick. Abe tilts his chin toward his chest as he follows the path of Mihashi’s hands with his eyes. The instant Mihashi touches his dick, Abe’s hips jerk and he gasps, a low and stuttering sound that turns pained when Mihashi lets go.

He’s only adjusting his grip, though, and Abe murmurs out, “Yeah, that’s good,” praising Mihashi even though he hates that he pulled away, because he knows he’s just doing what he was told to. His irritation doesn’t last long, though, not with Mihashi pink-cheeked, stroking his dick with no hesitation now as he trails his other hand up from Abe’s inner thigh to trace the line of his hip. His thighs spread a tiny bit more under Mihashi’s touch, and Abe curves his spine, pressing his dick into Mihashi’s hand as a dizzying rush of pleasure spreads up over his body. His messy face is flushed, too, even more than before, and his mouth opens on heavy, shaking breaths.

With a tiny shy smile, Mihashi splays his free hand on Abe’s stomach, smoothing it over the soft skin up to his chest, sending a shiver through him. Hips twitching in tiny little jerks, Abe leans back, propping himself up with fingers curling on Mihashi’s thighs just above his knees as Mihashi slides his hand across his chest. His fingers graze a nipple; it hardens under his touch, but Abe doesn’t even have a chance to focus on the sensation before Mihashi has already moved on, hand roaming all over his body, down his side to his hip, back over his stomach to drag slowly down the trail of hair and press against his skin, framing his dick, careful not to interfere with the steady working of his other hand.

His dick leaks a bit of precome that smears across Mihashi’s fingers as he slides his other hand down to fit against the curve of Abe’s leg, stroking his inner thigh. The skin is shivery, making Abe groan, startled. And then tense, muscles of his thighs trembling, breath catching sharply when Mihashi lightly thumbs his precome over the head of his dick. He sets a faster pace as he resumes stroking his dick, staring up at Abe with wide, fascinated eyes.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Abe whispers, gritting his teeth immediately after he speaks, Mihashi sliding his fingers down his inner thigh, then back up, dragging pleasure in their wake.

Abe doesn’t register Mihashi’s unsure pause, but he sure does notice with a jump when he abruptly jams his fingers underneath his ass. He levels an unimpressed (though hazy) stare at Mihashi, though he doesn’t bother to voice a complaint. Doesn’t trust his voice at the moment. Mihashi doesn’t look like he needs to be told, anyway, avoiding Abe’s eyes to stare very intently at his dick. And though the method he chose to get there was terrible, Abe enjoys having Mihashi’s hand on his ass, fingers squashed against the curve, and his displeased expression fades quickly.

His hips continue to rock, tiny, urgent motions—even when Mihashi pulls his hand away. “What’re—,” he starts, frustrated by the lack of contact, but he cuts his sentence off with a harsh breath when he sees Mihashi sucking on his own fingers. Slipping them out, he smears spit up the length of Abe’s dick, delicately dragging a wet thumb down the underside. The slick drag of his fingers sends a sudden shock of sensation through Abe, intensifying when he repeats the motion.

Mihashi curls his fingers around his dick once more, pace insistent as he strokes, short, jerky movements. Abe can’t think anymore, feels like he can barely breathe. He writhes, pushing his ass down against Mihashi’s hand before he arches, thighs trembling. Abe comes silently, even holding his breath until the heady rush of pleasure passes, come spattering Mihashi’s fingers and stomach.

Mihashi slows his strokes as Abe relaxes, then releases his dick, pulling his other hand free. Pushing himself up, he wraps his arms around Abe's waist and rests his forehead against his chest. Abe groans, a warm, pleased sound that stretches on until it melts into a contented hum that he presses, along with his nose, into Mihashi’s hair. Slowly, he leans forward, and (reluctantly) drags his arms up to loop around Mihashi’s shoulders. In response, Mihashi rubs his cheek against Abe's chest, inhaling deeply and then huffing out a contented sigh.

He breathes into Mihashi’s hair for a minute or two, nearly dozing off, but doesn’t let himself drift too far. “...I just came all over you, didn’t I?” he mumbles dryly, making Mihashi start. “We’ll wipe you off in a minute.”

Mihashi shivers, nuzzles his chest, and mumbles, “...liked that...”

Abe makes a questioning sound as he rests his cheek against the top of Mihashi’s head. “You,” he pauses, trying to gather his thoughts through the sleepy haze dragging him down, “You _liked_ that I came on you?” He blinks a few times, slightly puzzled, but adds it to his mental list of things Mihashi likes just the same.

It’s not entirely clear whether Mihashi nods or just nuzzles him again, voice sleep-slurred as he continues, “...li...li... _all_ of it, but...th-that was really... _really_...” He tightens his arms around Abe’s waist briefly, makes a noise as if he’s trying to speak, then mashes his face even harder against Abe’s chest. In a near-whisper, he finishes, “Um. A-Abe-kun c-could...could...that... again, sometime?”

Apparently, the confession has exhausted all Mihashi’s remaining energy, and he leans back, trying to tug Abe along with him. Arching his eyebrows, Abe resists, but does lean in to kiss the side of his neck. “I’ll definitely do it again, since you liked it so much. We’ll talk about what else you liked later on, too. But now—” He interrupts himself to push on Mihashi’s shoulder, urging him down; he flops backward immediately with a happy sigh. “You stay here, and I’ll go get us something to clean up with.”

With that, Abe slides off of Mihashi, eliciting a dismayed noise and followed by a grasping hand, and recovers the underwear from the end of the bed. He pulls them back on, then grabs his pants from the chair, kicking his feet through the legs somehow. With a glance back at Mihashi, he leaves the bedroom and makes his way to the washroom for a cloth. He glances up while wetting it, catching sight of himself in the mirror, and immediately washes his face vigorously, cheeks pink.

He’s not gone long, but by the time he gets back, Mihashi is sprawled on the bed fast asleep. Abe smiles, sitting down next to him, pressing against his side as Mihashi murmurs something unintelligible and turns his head towards him. Trying not to wake him (though it seems like he’s out cold), Abe wipes down Mihashi’s stomach.  _He's_ beyond embarrassed by seeing his own come splashed across Mihashi’s skin, but that's not important. He folds the cloth, then after a few moments of searching, tucks it into Mihashi’s laundry hamper. (Well, he assumes it’s the hamper. It only has a single sock in it, but it looks right and he’s too interested in getting back into bed to care that much.)

Forgetting to take off his pants again or even glance at a clock, he crawls into the bed next to Mihashi. He yanks the blanket over them both, then slings his arm over Mihashi and tugs him close. It only takes a few minutes for Abe to drop off to sleep, completely forgetting he’s supposed to be going home.


	10. Lights on

The house is dark when Naoe gets home. She steps out of her shoes, making a note to admonish Ren to at _least_ put on the front door light when he’s home first, then wanders into the kitchen. Automatically, she scoops rice into the rice cooker, buying herself time to think of something resembling dinner. The kettle is in the sink for some reason, filled to the brim. Naoe clucks her tongue and pours off the water into the rice cooker, her eyes lighting on the stove clock as she turns. Some tired thought trying to fight its way into her consciousness.

_No lights on. Ren still wasn’t feeling well this morning... Is he asleep, then, or...?_

Padding quickly upstairs, she quietly slides open the door, peering in and waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dim light coming in through the windows. She sighs, relieved to see there’s someone in the bed, her son isn’t passed out somewhere in the road.

 _Wait_...

Edging a few steps into the room, eyes wide and fingers pressed against her lips to hold back a giggle, she tries to get a better look at the head of the bed. There...there are _definitely_ two people there. _Ren, and...shorter, darker hair... Hug...ging?? Short hair. Boy? Not Yuuichirou... That boy, the other one who helped haul Ren into the car, the catcher, Takaya...?_

Blushing, she squints at him a little longer to be sure, then backs quickly and quietly out of the room, closing the door almost silently before hurrying downstairs. Only then does she let laughter bubble out of her. _He really_ is _growing up!_ Ren had talked about that boy a lot, but never mentioned Takaya was anything other than a respected teammate... In fact, she’d rather got the impression Ren thought Takaya didn’t like him... _Emotions change quickly at that age, I suppose. Oh, but they looked so cute...!_ She doubles over, trying not to laugh too loud

Back in the kitchen, she glances at the clock again, coming to the unfortunate conclusion that she had probably better phone his parents and let them know where their son is. _Well, maybe not_ exactly _where he is...? Um. I...wasn't exactly expecting to deal with...anything like this just yet..._

She finds the sheet of contact numbers and calls, hoping she hasn't made a mistake identifying the boy and that she sounds minimally flustered as she introduces herself. To her relief, the pleasant- sounding woman on the other end replies, “Ohhhh! Is Taka still there, then?” Naoe “explains” that the boys were practicing, and got tired, and Takaya had fallen asleep. On the couch, she adds, somewhat unnecessarily, glad that blushing is inaudible. “Ah, that’s fine. These boys like to think they’re all grown up, but they still seem to need naps! Oh, by the way, you were at their game, weren’t you...?” The conversation shifts into less potentially hazardous territory, and then winds down with apologies for rude sons in exchange for assurances that all misplaced children will be delivered home. She goes back to rummaging around in the kitchen, trying to think of the least mortifying way to wake the boys up.

* * *

 

Abe sleeps through the intrusion into the room, waking several minutes after Naoe finishes her phone call. He blinks blearily into the dim light of Mihashi’s bedroom, then carefully slides his arms out from around Mihashi before dragging himself out of the bed. He tugs the blankets back up over Mihashi, tucking them around him before he pads across the room with slow, heavy steps.

He yanks his shirt over his head, then quietly exits the room and goes downstairs, heading for the kitchen and a glass of water. His throat is dry, and his mouth pretty much tastes terrible, even though he’d rinsed it out earlier. Still sleep-dazed, he’s completely forgotten to check the time, and doesn't process the meaning of the blinding kitchen light until he's already half-through the doorway.

He freezes and tries desperately not to think of the state of his hair or face as he forces himself to smile. “Good evening, Mihashi-san,” he manages, still not budging one step further into the room. “We—Mihashi fell asleep,” he finishes lamely, painfully aware of how stupid that must sound, how much like an excuse. Still, hopefully, it’s enough of an explanation that she won’t ask anything else.

In the middle of chopping a carrot, Naoe freezes in a familiar way. When she turns, though, she's smiling kindly (even if the effect is somewhat ruined by her death grip on the large knife). "I saw. Ah, that is...!"

She's saying something about his mother that Abe can barely process. She knows. She even saw them sleeping together. He can only hope that she didn't notice the part where they were naked.

"...if you like?"

Abe's mind is a panicked wash, but all he shows is a slight flush, dropping eye-contact for a brief moment before making himself look up. "I'm sorry for sleeping so long. Thank you for calling my parents for me. I didn't mean to impose on you like this." She waves the apology off with a smile, the blanches when she notices she's gesturing with the knife. Abe finally parses out what her question had been. "Is it okay if we eat upstairs? I don't want to bother you..." The question feels heavy, loaded with unintended meaning.

"Oh, that's alright! I only just got home, myself. I...I have some work to finish up, so...so you two should just eat together."

He's pretty sure she's lying and he's overwhelmingly grateful for it. Not so grateful for the split second where it seems like she's smothering a laugh.

Naoe seems to get herself back under control, returning to chopping. "So I'll bring... Um. I'll call you when it's ready, okay? If you could just remind Ren to bring down the dishes...that room is enough of a pigsty already..."

"I will," Abe replies with a polite but unseen nod. He hesitates, glancing back through the living room at what he can see of the stairs, then makes himself step fully into the kitchen. "Mihashi-san? Can I get a glass of water?" He had seriously considered just fleeing back upstairs, but he's pretty sure it's better if he at least _tries_ to act natural. Besides, Mihashi will definitely need to rehydrate when he wakes up.

“Mm? Yes, of course. Glasses are just over there,” Naoe answers, waving at a cabinet.

Abe takes one down on his way to the sink. He can feel her side-eyeing him but he steadfastly keeps his eyes on the slowly filling glass. His mind very helpfully points out that the kettle is no longer in the sink. At least they hadn’t left a pile of clothes for her to find.

He’s not sure how much she’s guessed about whatever’s going on between him and Mihashi—hell, he has no clue what, if anything, Mihashi might’ve blabbed—and he has absolutely no idea whether she approves or not, and it’s just…all a little much to be dealing with when he’s just woken up. And standing here, knowing he’s wearing Mihashi’s underwear under his pants _really_ isn’t helping him keep his cool about this.

With great relief, he shuts off the tap, ready to escape.

Naoe makes a vague, thoughtful noise.

_Crap._

She starts, “You know, I’m really glad Ren has been able to make some friends at Nishiura.” Abe nods, humming an affirmative as he gulps some water. “He’s… I suppose he had some trouble, before, at Mihoshi, and…”

He’s pretty sure she’s trying to Make Eye Contact; he refuses to take his eyes off the kitchen window. There was a fucking _window_ right behind them that whole time, and he didn’t—

“And, well, it would make me even more happy, if there was someone…someone who was extra special to him?”

Abe freezes with a mouthful of water.

‘Special’.

Special to Mihashi. He flushes and swallows with an audible gulp. “I’ll…” he starts, his hand tightening on the glass a little, “…take care of him.”

It feels like such a lame thing to say, but it’s the closest to the truth he can think of. They might be having sex, but he can’t say if he’s actually special to Mihashi or not. Even now, sometimes Mihashi barely even seems to _like_ him. All there is between them is sex; just a way to communicate, the only way that seems to work _._

It’s appallingly embarrassing to be thinking about these things in front of Mihashi’s goddamn _mother_ , however much tacit sideways approval she might be giving.

Regardless, Naoe’s beaming at him. “That’s good!”

Before she can move to say anything else, Abe flicks the tap back on. “That you for the water, Mihashi-san. I’ll go upstairs and wake Mihashi now.” As measured as he can, he retreats from the kitchen. He takes another quick sip of water before jogging up the stairs and quietly letting himself into Mihashi’s room.

He gropes around for the light switch, then flicks it on, finding Mihashi crawling around beneath the bedsheets for reasons Abe...just doesn’t even want to try to ascertain right now. As he steps over to the foot of the bed, Mihashi jumps a little, then resumes rummaging around.

Abe’s heart is pounding as he stands there, watching dumbly, the glass of water cool in his hand, condensation making his palm damp.

After seconds that feel like hours, Mihashi pulls something free with a jerk, then thrashes around, untucking the sheet and finally emerging clutching his shorts. Hair a rumpled mess, panting, he sits back on his heels, the blanket slowly slipping down off his bare shoulders, blinking up at Abe.

“Hey. Here. I brought you some water.” Mihashi accepts the glass silently. As he drinks, his eyes drop from Abe’s face, and by the time he finishes, he’s blushing, hanging his head and dropping his clothes to tug the blanket closer around himself. Abe frowns down at him as he hunches up. Like he’s afraid of what Abe's going to do, like they hadn’t been curled around each other just minutes ago. His jaw clenches as he reaches out to take the glass back from Mihashi.

He has no idea what to say to make him feel better about this, whatever 'this' is now. Maybe he’s regretting what they did. Maybe he’s embarrassed. Abe can’t fucking tell. “You should get dressed.” Mihashi jumps, but doesn’t look up. “Your mom is home and she’s making us dinner right now. She has work to do, though, so we’re going to eat in here,” he says, tone as restrained as he can manage, though his frustration is still very apparent.

And now Mihashi’s shaking, shrinking in on himself, thinking who even _knows_ what. Obviously nothing good.

But then suddenly, he sits up straight, staring at Abe, eyes big. “We’re...eat??” bursts out of him, and then he flings himself back across the bed, grabbing for his shirt. He starts to yank it on even before he’s fully upright, nearly overbalancing and tipping himself head-first onto the floor, and Abe can only watch in exasperated silence as he flails his way off the bed and into the rest of his clothing. He might’ve been interested in seeing Mihashi naked again—even watching him get dressed might have been nice—but this is _far_ too ridiculous for him to appreciate any of Mihashi’s naked skin. His enthusiasm is...sort of endearing, at least.

Once he’s finally dressed, Mihashi straightens, then turns to him slowly with a shy little smile. Abe sighs and places a hand on Mihashi’s head, fingers sliding into his hair and ruffling it a little; Mihashi’s eyes flutter shut, and his fingers curl, grabbing the fabric of his shorts.

Abe clears his throat. “...Alright, good. Anyway, your mom already called my parents, so we’re fine for now.”

Mihashi nods, then dips his chin, nervously peeking at Abe before shuffling a step nearer. Abe lifts his hand away, leaving it hovering awkwardly while Mihashi comes around the corner of the bed, flicking his eyes up to his face and away again as though watching for any sign of disapproval.

Mihashi stands next to him for a moment, and then abruptly leans stiffly against his shoulder. Immediately, Abe wraps an arm around Mihashi’s trembling shoulders in a one-armed hug, still holding the water glass. He squeezes him lightly, tugging him closer so he’s holding him flush against his body, Mihashi nuzzling his shoulder with a sigh. It’s a relief that he wants to hug him (assuming that was his intent), but he can’t help but keep a close eye on the door, since Naoe could show up at any moment.

Mihashi relinquishes his hold on his shorts to cling to the front of Abe’s shirt, then after a moment, fumbles around until he grabs the glass out of Abe’s hand, dropping it unceremoniously on the bed.

“Don’t just throw glasses around,” Abe snaps as he watches the glass bounce, roll, thankfully coming to a stop before it falls off the edge. Mihashi flinches a little at the reprimand, but still curls his arm around Abe’s neck, pressing his cheek against the other side. Simultaneously pleased and irritated, Abe wraps his other arm around Mihashi’s waist and holds him close, tilting his head until his cheek is resting against the top of his head. Even so, he maintains his vigilant watch on the door. “Mihashi,” he grumbles quietly, “your mom could come in anytime, you know.” For all his disapproval, he doesn’t show any signs of letting Mihashi go.

“Mm...yeah...” Mihashi doesn’t move away, but he doesn’t do anything further, at least, just relaxes against him. After a moment, though, he starts, “But!” sliding out from under Abe’s cheek, “but...i-if...if... She’s make...making supper, right? So...” He turns his head to side-eye Abe, blushing. “So...busy...so... And I know we ca...can’t do... Um.” He shifts agitatedly, clearly working himself up, then looks at Abe full-on with a disarmingly eager expression. “But...I would! Would really li-like to...t-to...to kiss Abe-kun more!”

Abe releases a long, sighing breath, his head falling back for a second so he can stare up at the ceiling. He feels conflicted: the _last_ thing he wants is to have Mihashi’s mother interrupt them making out, and his lips are a bit tender from earlier, but at the same time, he doesn’t want to refuse Mihashi. Especially not when he’s asking for things so directly. And when he looks back down, Mihashi’s staring up at him intently, already with worry plain on his face. He squeezes him tight against himself, one hand sliding back and forth across his lower back.

“We can kiss more, but if we hear her on the stairs, we have to stop immediately, okay?”

Mihashi nods excitedly, bouncing on the balls of his feet. But he stills the second Abe nudges his nose against his cheek. Abe tilts his head a tiny bit, kisses his mouth lightly. Mihashi lets out a sighing breath through his nose, swiping his tongue slowly over Abe's lower lip, and then pressing their lips together more firmly. It aches a little, and, although it's annoying, the pain is a clear reminder of how he let Mihashi fuck his mouth. It's somewhat embarrassing in retrospect, even more so because he'd actually enjoyed it. A lot.

Mihashi pulls back, gently touches his fingertips to Abe's lips; Abe arches his brows, but doesn't comment. And after a second of staring at his lips with an expression he can't interpret, Mihashi slides his hand over Abe's cheek to the back of his head, pulling him in for another kiss. His lips part invitingly, and Abe leans into the kiss, mouth opening against his as he slowly licks into his mouth. Mihashi hums a pleased noise, wrapping his other arm around Abe's neck, pushing up on his toes. Abe keeps him tucked up close against his body with hands flattened against Mihashi's back as he slides their tongues together.

When he realises Mihashi's rubbing up against him, though, Abe makes a low, irritated noise; they don't have time to get caught up in anything right now. And Mihashi's wandering fingers confirm his suspicions, tracing lines down his nape and just under the collar of his shirt. Abe loosens his hold, trying to think how to make Mihashi back off without inducing another freak-out like last time, but before he can, Mihashi abruptly shifts his weight, almost hanging off him as he tilts them towards the bed. Unbalanced, they sway, then start to topple; Abe grabs at Mihashi frantically, overcorrects...and then they're tumbling back to land with a painful _thunk_ on the floor.

Naoe’s voice floats up to them. “A…are you all right?!”

Stunned briefly, Abe collects himself enough to yell back, "We're okay! We just knocked something down. Sorry for the noise!"

Dislodging a still-dazed Mihashi who is rubbing his nose, he sits cross-legged on the floor. "Okay. _First_ of all, what the hell were you even trying to do, there?" Mihashi pushes himself up on his knees, leaning forwards on tensely splayed hands and looking at the floor; Abe frowns at him. "Secondly, did you forget that your mom is home? Right. Under. Neath. Us. And she could show up at any moment." In an effort not to bother Naoe anymore, he speaks in a furious whisper, nearly growling out, "I said we could _kiss_ , and I meant that, just kissing."

Mihashi still won't look at him, but after a moment, he mumbles out, "Ah...I..." Abe's stare turns bland; he's at least getting a response, but he's not going to hold out any hope that Mihashi will say anything intelligible or useful. "I w...I th-thought..." Mihashi hiccups in a breath, and Abe narrows his eyes slightly, bracing himself for the usual hysterics. "I...I'm s-sor…"

Suddenly, Mihashi stills. After a moment, he lifts his hands to grab his shirt, pressing them against his chest. He peeks up at Abe; he can only see Mihashi's face for a split second, but it's enough to take in his eyes, still teary, but filled with a strange wondering curiousity that Abe can't make sense of.

He seems...oddly composed, even as he drops his gaze, dipping his head slightly and murmuring, "I'm really sorry."

Abe rubs a hand across his own face, then sets both hands on his knees as he leans in toward Mihashi. "As long as you understand. There's a _reason_ I said we couldn't do this at school anymore. It wouldn't be good if we got caught, right? This is between _us_." He gestures between them, then lapses into an awkward silence.

Straightening a little, Mihashi nods slowly, hands now relaxed on his knees. But then they clench briefly and he shakes his head vigorously. Abe makes a halfhearted attempt to puzzle out why, but gives up pretty quick. And then Mihashi finally looks up, smiling nervously, so he just smiles back as best he can manage, trying to reassure him.

Naoe's voice punctures the silence; dinner is ready. Mihashi jumps to his feet, yelling back, "Com...coming!" He turns to Abe, and, seeming a bit more his normal frantically energetic self, says, "Ah...I! I'll get...get...stay!" then sprints off.

Abe lets him go without complaint. Once he's gone, he stands and tugs the blankets and sheets over the bed. He considers sitting on it, but he has a feeling that would be a mistake, so he sits down on the couch instead.

A few moments later, Mihashi appears with a tray with two steaming bowls that Abe eyes with obvious interest. He takes half a step into the room, then stops, shooting Abe a wide-eyed look, and turns to nudge the door shut with his foot. Mihashi comes over, setting the tray on the floor and handing Abe one bowl and a pair of chopsticks. Even though the spot beside Abe on the couch is conspicuously free, Mihashi just picks up his own bowl and settles on the floor in front of him. Abe blinks, mouth pressing into a confused line, but he decides that he doesn't want to know.

They say, "Uma sou," and eagerly tuck in. All afternoon, they'd both been too distracted to think about food, but now that it's here, they both eat ravenously. In a way, Abe's glad they have something to occupy them so that he doesn't have to worry about talking. So that it’s not so awkward as the silence draws out between them. So that he can have a few minutes to cool down.

In theory.

It's impossible to miss how Mihashi keeps darting nervous glances his way. And yet, he never speaks, and any time Abe meets his eyes with eyebrows raised questioningly, Mihashi gasps and looks away.

But Abe manages to hold his tongue until they've finished eating and the bowls are back on the tray. Mihashi shifts to a crouch, reaching for the tray, but before he can use that as an escape, Abe bites out, "If you have something you want to say, then just say it already." He leans, elbows on knees, until he's looming over Mihashi.

"Ah...ah?!" Mihashi snatches his hands back from the tray. He flops backwards onto his ass, every angle of his body conveying his desire to get away. "I...I don't...don't...any...?"

Abe's brow creases and he squints at Mihashi for a minute, watching with mounting irritation as he flees from him, scooting backwards on the floor like Abe was _threatening_ him. He just wanted to _talk_. He just wanted Mihashi to say what was on his mind.

But he can’t yell. If he’s too loud, it’ll just scare Mihashi even worse. Gotta derail this before things escalate. Again.

Quickly, he leans forward and grabs ahold of Mihashi, hauling him up; he flails, kicking the tray and making the bowls clack and making frantic noises himself, but comes just the same.

Abe pushes him down on the couch next to him, somewhat mollified when he sits _facing_ him, one leg bent between them on the cushion, the other dangling off the side of the couch. Biting his lip, Mihashi stares intently at Abe's foot.

"Okay," Abe says, as gently as he can possibly manage, "I want to ask you some things about what we did today. About what you liked."

Mihashi just blushes at first, which seems promising. But then a look of horror passes over his face, and he hunches his shoulders.

Abe breathes a slow, steadying breath, trying to calm himself down. He wants to touch Mihashi to try to reassure him, but hesitates, unsure if that would make things any better. He forces himself to continue trying to talk. "What did you like doing? You already said that you liked," he pauses for a beat, uncomfortable, "when I came on you. But what else was good...?"

Blush intensifying, Mihashi examines something on the floor. But then he peeks at Abe out of the corner of his eye, his terror mostly faded into a thoughtful look. "Um." After a painfully long pause, he mumbles, "I li-liked being n-n-naked with a-Abe-kun?"

Mihashi blanches, and Abe's pretty sure even _he's_ aware his response is so obvious that it's basically useless. Abe's eyebrow twitches, but he forces himself to focus on the fact that Mihashi answered him at _all_. It's a success, sort of. He just has to try to keep him talking. Smiling at Mihashi, he replies, "Yeah, I liked that too," desperately hoping that sounds encouraging. "What else?"

Mihashi's eyes flick up, and, seeing Abe's smile, he brightens considerably. "Um. I liked w-when...when Abe-kun b-bi...bi...he..." Mihashi rubs his shoulder, then continues, "a-and other p-p-places...”

Abe stares back at him for a moment, impressed to see him manage to express himself so clearly (for Mihashi), even though he's bright red again by the time he's finished talking. "Alright, so. Biting is good." He reaches out and tugs on the collar of Mihashi's shirt, pulling until he can see the bite mark that he left. And doing his best to ignore Mihashi's little shiver as his fingers brush over his skin. "Tch, sorry for biting so hard. That bruise is pretty dark. Does it hurt?"

Mihashi cranes his neck, trying to look at the mark. "It...a little." That little honesty in itself is progress, making Abe feel more relieved than he'd like to admit. Mihashi prods the bruise lightly; when his hand comes into glancing contact with Abe's, though, he snatches it back for some reason. "Not bad, though?"

"Hmm. Alright. We'll be more careful in the future." He strokes the bite mark with his thumb. He's still surprised that he bit him so hard, but since Mihashi liked it, Abe decides not to worry about it too much. The only issue _now_ is if someone else sees and questions Mihashi about it... With a sigh, he releases Mihashi's shirt, letting it cover the mark again, looking back at him expectantly.

Mihashi blinks back at him, then takes a deep breath. “Also, I...liked! Liked a-Abe-kun's... Um. My under...in my..." Mihashi looks down again, but rather than avoiding Abe's eyes, it appears he's...focusing on his crotch. Abe feels a light flush spread across his cheeks. It's embarrassing, hearing Mihashi talk so blatantly about what he likes, but Abe feels like he needs to know, and it's a relief to have Mihashi giving him feedback about something. Mihashi stares for a moment more, then shakes himself and turns away, considering. "Also...good...Abe-kun...o-o-n top of m-me? Or hold...hold...hold me d-down. But! I like when...when I can do things, too!" He faces Abe again with an earnest excitement that catches him off guard. "I really liked t-t-tou-touching Abe-kun! I-if it was okay..."

"You liked when I sat on you? That's good. You said before that you wanted to see, so I figured that would be the best way. Maybe we can do more in that position."

Mihashi nods enthusiastically, then looks off to the side with an odd laugh. Abe arches his brows, opening his mouth to question him, but he's cut off before he can get a word out. "A-a-Abe-kun is...very, um, very...lo...vely?? T-to..." Mihashi seems to realise his questionable choice of words about a second too late. "To look...a-a-at?"

Confused, Abe narrows his eyes at Mihashi, who stares back with wide eyes, then examines his hands. "Lovely," Abe repeats dryly. That’s nice, but he's not sure he understands what he means by that. "Thank you...?" Probably best not to think about it too much.

Abe shifts over, a little closer to him, hip brushing, pressing against Mihashi’s knee, then takes one of Mihashi's hands in his own, adjusting his grip until their fingers are intertwined. Mihashi starts, but squeezes his hand back, smiling tentatively. He leans close, almost touching, hesitates, then turns and scoots closer so he can press his cheek against Abe's shoulder, leaning into him. Abe can't help smiling a little as he looks down at where their hands are joined. He shifts in place, adjusting so that he can rest his head on top of Mihashi's, exhaling a long breath and slowly relaxing into the couch as Mihashi snuggles a little closer.

There are more questions he would like to ask, but now that he has Mihashi happily distracted, it doesn't seem worth the effort to plow on with their conversation. He has a general idea of what Mihashi liked this time, anyway, enough for next time. Besides, he's tired. Even after the nap earlier, he's drained, in a way that goes beyond physical tiredness, and perfectly content to sit quietly for a while with Mihashi's palm warm against his own.

Half-awake, they stay like that until Naoe calls up from below that she'd better take Abe home. Blearily, they head downstairs, Mihashi carrying the tray after a reminder from Abe. With possibly the most awkward goodbye Abe has ever experienced in his life, no one making eye contact with anybody else, they part ways.


	11. Curve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So, sorry I haven't been updating much; I've been busy with shipweek and SASO stuff (which means more stuff to put up here later!!) BUT YEAH IN APOLOGY this is gonna be a double update (it'll be a bit while I edit the next chapter and put a small child to bed...)

Of course, Tajima notices the scrape immediately.

He catches sight of it when they’re all changing after morning practice. It doesn’t look particularly _bad_ , or anything; it's more the way Mihashi's very obviously hiding it, practically backing his butt into a corner of the clubroom to strip down, that has him worried. But there’s no time before class starts to ask, really. And while Tajima considers asking about it during lunch break, with Hamada and Izumi there, if he’s right, if Mihashi  _is_ trying to keep it secret, he’ll just freeze up.

Besides, Mihashi seems oddly chirpy, so it seems unlikely that anything _super_ bad could've happened. _Probably just he was doing something stupid, and he's embarrassed about it._

But when Mihashi hides the scrape again after class, Tajima decides that no, this is something he’s gotta investigate.

With great force of will, he waits until they're alone, doing the lower-intensity practice together. Tajima pulls his arm against his chest, stretching, levels a direct stare at Mihashi, and asks, "Hey, so, what happened to your back?"

Also mid-stretch, Mihashi jumps, giving him a deer-in-the-headlights look. "Back?! Noth… Um, what?" he asks, arms dropping to curl protectively against his stomach.

"You're total crap at lying, y'know. That scrape on your back. What happened?"

Staring fixedly at a clump of grass, Mihashi bites his lip for a moment, cheeks pink, then mumbles, "…not supposed to…" He looks up at Tajima with something that almost resembles defiance. "It's private??"

Tajima puts his hands on his hips. "Too private to tell _me_?" Mihashi nods, but his eyes slip off to the side, his resolve clearly shaky. He still doesn't volunteer any more information, though, so Tajima tries a different tack. "What's private about a scrape?"

"It’s be-because…was when we were…we were…” Blushing brighter, Mihashi twitches again, then draws his hand up under his chin, now curled in a loose fist. “I…m not supposed to t-talk about… It would…bad if…knew a-a-about…” His fist is now in front of his mouth, slightly muffling his words as he continues, “He said…careful…g-get caught…"

Alarm bells are starting to go off in Tajima’s head, half-remembered after-school specials floating in the back of his mind. "Said what? _Who?_ " Mihashi shakes his head. Tajima leans in, ducking his head, trying to catch his eye. "Hey! I told you already! You can tell me stuff.” He frowns to himself, then shifts closer, grabbing Mihashi’s shoulder, shaking him gently. “If anyone's bullying you, I'll look out for you, 'kay?" Mihashi nods slowly; Tajima waits patiently, ready to prompt him again if needed.

It takes him a little while, but Mihashi eventually takes a deep breath and looks up. "I. Um. I…a-a-a…a-Abe-kun, we…" He's turning an even  _more_ vibrant shade of crimson. "Came over… We ha…we di…d it...kitchen… But it wasn't! It wasn't bullying, T-Taji–"

Relieved, Tajima whoops. "I  _knew_ it!" Mihashi jumps, goggling at him. " _Knew_ there was something going on between you guys!"

Mihashi sputters out an incoherent cry of distress, then manages to get out, "But I didn't! Didn't tell you!"

"Yeah, but you're pretty easy to figure out! So, what, you guys boned in your kitchen? Kinky!"

"No! It wasn't like…! It…we just…" Mihashi suddenly looks away, bites his lip, then says, as though confessing some terrible crime, "I t-took…I did something wr-wrong… And Abe-kun! Angry… Then…so I made hi… Made…so we did, um, th-things…" Mihashi blushes with a tiny smile, though he hunches his shoulders up; Tajima grins encouragingly in the off-chance that he looks up. Which he doesn't. "And that…while…got hurt?” Just as soon as it appeared, Mihashi’s smile is gone, though. “Abe-kun was angry, then, too… It was…b-be-because I…selfish ag-g-gain." And now he's back to staring at the ground with a dejected expression.

With a frown, Tajima starts, "What are you—" but before he can question him further, Shiga shows up to hurry them along, standing and watching pointedly, precluding further conversation.

Tajima doesn’t want to jump to any conclusions, so for the rest of the afternoon, any chance he gets, he tries to draw a little more out of Mihashi about what’s going on. The more he hears, though, the more he feels like _Mihashi_ doesn’t even have a particularly good grasp of what’s happening between him and Abe. And the couple times he gets to watch them interact do nothing to clarify things. Mihashi seems extra agitated whenever Abe's nearby, but it's hard to tell whether it's because he's happy or upset.

For his part, Abe seems to be treating Mihashi just the same as always. Which is to say yelling, fussing, getting frustrated a whole bunch, and having a hell of a time dealing with it when Mihashi inevitably gets freaked out. _I suppose maybe they’re different when they’re alone_ , Tajima thinks charitably, watching as Sakaeguchi steps in to diffuse a misunderstanding between them for the second time today.

Normally, it’s totally easy to fill in the blanks in Mihashi’s speech, but this time, Tajima’s not so sure, which in itself is bugging him. Maybe it’s just ‘cause in this case, it really _matters_ just _exactly_ what it is Mihashi’s saying. And the more he asks, the more agitated Mihashi gets about it, and the more incoherent he becomes, until he stops answering altogether, and Tajima reluctantly concedes defeat. He does manage to get a few fascinating details with regards to their activities, probably more than _most_ people would want to know about a friend’s sex life.  _Whatever it is they've got going on, at least_ most _of it's fun for Mihashi..._

And then, while everyone starts cleaning up, Abe pulls Mihashi aside and sends him back to get changed early. Tajima eyes them as he helps move a section of fencing, watches Mihashi's confused, distressed expression, watches Abe wave at Mihashi's body, watches Mihashi scurry off. None of it is vastly out of the ordinary, but it just makes him even more uneasy.

 _I like Abe, got a lot of respect for the guy, and really don't want to think ill of him. And not like I_ do, _but…_

 _But he's probably the worst of any of us at handling Mihashi. And while it’s obvious how much he likes Mihashi, he_ does _pretty much constantly yell at him and boss him around. And he's not exactly the gentlest guy._

If only it weren't Mihashi. If it were anyone else, he wouldn't worry.

It's not his usual style, but the situation does seem to require a little delicacy, so he figures he should wait until the three of them are alone on the ride home. He even stealthily keeps quiet for another block or so after they've split off from everyone else, finally calling to the other two to stop for a sec. Swinging off his bike, he kicks down the stand and walks over to Abe, who gives him a sleepy, slightly perplexed look, but gets off his bike as well.

One hand on his hip, fixing Abe with an intent stare, Tajima says, firmly, "Don't ever hurt Mihashi like that again, ‘kay?"

Caught off guard, Abe blinks back at him a few times. "What the hell are you talking about, Tajima?" He looks between them with a confused frown. "Mihashi didn't get hurt—" He cuts himself off and glares at Mihashi, right eye twitching a little. "…Oi, you're not hiding something, are you?"

Both hands on his hips, now, Tajima shifts his weight to the side, a small but pointed movement that puts him between Mihashi and Abe (who transfers his scowl to Tajima). Mihashi’s starting to sputter out some kind of response to Abe from behind him, but before he can get more than a few words out, Tajima interrupts.

“I _saw_ the scrape on his back.” Thinking about what Mihashi’d said earlier, he adds, “And he didn’t even say anything until I asked, so don’t get mad at him about that! ...It’s not like it’s bad, but what were you _thinking?_ ”

Abe’s glare falters, though the crease between his eyebrows stays. Now, he just looks faintly sick as he shoots Mihashi a quick glance. Mihashi’s looking between Abe and Tajima (or rather between Abe's right shoulder and Tajima's hip) biting his lip and gripping his handlebars tight enough to turn his knuckles white.

Taking a deep breath, Abe turns his attention back to Tajima. “What was I thi…? Did he tell you that I did that to him? It was an accident. He even tried to hide it from me...” He breaks off with a shake of his head, clenches his hands, fingers curled as tight as Mihashi's on his handlebars. When he meets Tajima's eyes, it's with his familiar stolidness. But Tajima can see the rush of his thoughts behind those eyes, can see the glimmer of something like guilt or doubt.

Tajima stares him down. “He wasn’t accusing you. He told me it happened by accident, too, when you guys were doing it.”

Abe flinches, making a spectacularly horrified face. But before he can say anything, Mihashi surprises both of them by finally piping up.

“I-it _was!_ Abe-kun di-didn’t do anything!”

“Yeah? That so?” Tajima turns to Mihashi, Abe giving him a startled look too.

Mihashi nods vigourously. “Yeah! We both…we… He…that’s why…angry! Because…because a-Abe-kun car…” He looks down, blushing, and then, for the first time since this dreadful conversation started, meets Abe’s eyes with a tiny, shy smile. Except that then, Mihashi’s brows draw together, and he looks away. “B-because Abe-kun…c-c...”

“Ohhhhh!” Tajima says, cutting Mihashi off with a slap on the shoulder that knocks away his distressed expression. “Why’d you make it sound so _shady?!_ Geeeeeeeeez!” Mihashi stammers back some kind of apology, staring at Tajima with wide (and, Abe can’t help noticing, fearless) eyes. Tajima turns back to him, grinning. “Sorry ‘bout that! You shoulda _heard_ the stuff he was—”

“That’s okay.” Abe covers his face with his hand, rubbing at his forehead, sighing. “I don’t want to know what he told you." He looks up to fix Tajima with a serious stare. "But I  _do_ need to know that you’re okay keeping this secret for us. The team doesn’t need to know, and it would be bad for _all_ of us if the school found out.”

Tajima shrugs, grinning. “Yeah, for sure. So long as you’re not being a jerk, _I_ don't care!”

Abe’s eyebrow twitches. “Good. That’s a relief.” He sighs with a shrug. “I should’ve known that you’d find out; it was probably stupid to have Mihashi try to hide it from _you_.”

“Yep!” Tajima’s grin broadens. “Couldn’t even keep it from me _before_ , back when he just had a crush on you! Me'n'Izumi _totally_ got you figured out.” Tajima says, gesturing at himself proudly. Mihashi makes a choked sound, hunching his shoulders, and his cheeks are visibly dark, even with the falling dusk.

Mihashi chirps indignantly back at Tajima but then giggles; the mood seems lighter now, even Abe seeming relaxed. Though it feels to Tajima like he's holding back, is slightly resentful of his presence. _Why? They could totally make out right now, I wouldn't care. ...Well, I'd prolly make fun of them, but..._

As if reading his mind, Abe turns quite pink.

Tajima leans close to him, grin broadening. “Hey, can I ask you something first?” Without waiting for a response, he charges on, “What’s it like, actually doin’ it with someone? But, like, ‘cause it’s a guy, isn’t it just kind of like jerking off? Is it different than with a girl? Hey, have _you_ done it with a girl before, Abe? You ever touched a boob? Have y—”

Abe stares blankly at Tajima for a moment, and then, without saying a word, reaches out and puts a hand over his face, pushing him away slowly. Tajima bats his hand out of the way, beaming at him, unfazed. The corner of Abe’s mouth twitches and he inhales a slow, steadying breath. “Like  _hell_ am I going to answer  _any_ of that, you idiot. That’s none of your business. You’re…” he pauses, glancing quickly at Mihashi, face twitching into a pained grimace for a second, “…going to get it all out of Mihashi anyway, aren’t you.” He doesn’t bother making the last sentence a question.

“Yep, pretty much!” Tajima grins over his shoulder at Mihashi, who makes faint noises of protest, swaying a little. “Aww, c'mon, you know you will!”

Making a face like he has several regrets about his past choices, Abe swings his leg over his bike. “…Anyway, it’s getting pretty late, so…I’m gonna turn off here. You guys should head home quick, too.”

The other two nod, though only Tajima speaks. “Yeah, I’m  _starving!_ Let’s go, Mihashi!” Stretching, Tajima walks back to his bike, righting it and hopping on.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow, Tajima,” Abe replies, waving him off before turning back to study Mihashi for a long moment. “Mihashi, remember to weigh yourself before you eat, alright? I’ll…talk to you later.”

Still bright red, Mihashi nods, grabbing for his bike and almost knocking it over before getting on. “I…I will! I promise. Um, bye?” he says with a tiny, uncertain smile.

* * *

            [08:48pm]  
            [To: kou]  
            [From: freckled dick]  
            [Subject: GUESS WHAT?!?!?!?!]  
            [I KNOW WHO MIHASHI’S CRISH IS!!  
            AND THEY’RE SECRET DAAAAAATING!!  
            So I can’t tell you haha.]

[08:51pm]  
[From: kou]  
[Subject: Re: GUESS WHAT?!?!?!?!]  
[its abe right]

[08:51pm]  
[From: kou]  
[Subject: anyways]  
[i thought we knew that already?]

            [08:52pm]  
            [From: freckled dick]  
            [Subject: Oh.]  
            [You suck!  
            Well, dom’t tell anyone else,  
            ‘cause it’d be bad for all of us if the school found out!]

[08:53pm]  
[From: kou]  
[Subject: Re: Oh.]  
[no shit @_@]

            [08:57pm]  
            [From: freckled dick]  
            [No Subject]  
            [T^T  
            Where’d you go after school, anyway?]

[08:57pm]  
[From: kou]  
[Subject: none of your damn business]  
[hamadas]

Izumi shuts his phone, shoving it into his pocket and slouching down on the couch.

Just in time for Hamada to come back with two steaming cups of hot chocolate. “I’ve been saving it! It might be a little weak, split between two…”

Izumi huffs out a sigh, taking his cup. “We should’ve gone to my house.”

“It’s just hot chocolate, it’s not like I need it. And besides,” Hamada sinks down on the couch with an old man’s groan, “you’ve been making that face like you need to talk all day, so…”

“Have not!” Izumi kicks his shin (gently, so neither of them ends up with a lap full of hot liquid). “ _What_ face?”

Hamada raises his eyebrows, then uses the fingers of one hand to squish them together. “Like this, and like you’re also ready to bite the head off of anyone who asks.”

Izumi narrows his eyes. “You look stupid.” _Why am I doing this? He’s right. And he knows it._ Still, his mouth stays pressed into a narrow, sulky line.

After waiting for a while, Hamada sighs. Resolutely, he sets his mug down, then turns sideways, reaching a foot out to poke Izumi in the thigh.

“Don’t touch me,” he says, but it’s more a rote response than anything.

“C’mon, man.” Hamada splits into a broad grin. “What’s so scandalous, you can’t tell me in front of Mihashi and Tajima?” Ignoring Izumi’s request, he continues jabbing him in the leg. “You fail a test? I’m pretty sure Tajima would just congratulate you. Whatever it is, it seriously can’t be _that_ bad, or—”

“Maybe it is!”

“Eh?” Hamada stops poking him.

Izumi slurps his hot chocolate disconsolately, then draws his legs up, curling his arms on top of them. “Maybe it _is_ that bad. Maybe it’s something that if I said, you wouldn’t wanna be my friend anymore. Maybe you’d hate me for it.”

“You’re sounding like Mihashi, now.” Hamada’s tone is joking, but there’s an undercurrent of concern.

_But is it for me, or for your own self-image, if you fail this test?_

Hamada crosses his arms over his chest. “Just tell me. We’ve been friends through all kinds of crap. I dunno what you think you could tell me that would change that.”

Izumi stares at one of those kitschy Hokkaido bear statues on top of the TV. He opens his mouth, throat dry and pulse racing. It’s different from Tajima.

_Tajima doesn’t give a shit about anything except baseball, food, and tits. And Mihashi. And Hanai, apparently._

So perhaps it’s less that he doesn’t give a shit, and more like Tajima’s affections are so big, so all-encompassing, that there’s space enough to fuck up a thousand times over and not fear that he’ll think any less of you, that he’ll smile any less at you, that anything will change in those brown eyes.

Izumi curls in on himself, wanting to cry but nowhere near willing. _I miss feeling that close. I hate this thing. I hate being set apart._

Part of him’s hoping for Hamada to say something, to prod him again, so he can snap at him, so he can shut him down or storm off in a huff.

But the sad truth is he does know him, all too well, and he just waits.

“Hamada… Yo’-chan… I’m bi.”

“Huh?” He almost _does_ snap something out, because what the hell kind of response is _that?_ But before Izumi can do anything, Hamada hums thoughtfully, rubbing his head. “Oh, like… So you like boys, too?”

The panic should be dissipating, shouldn’t it? “Yeah, that’s what it normally means,” he says, sarcastically.

“Oh.” Suddenly, Hamada snaps forward, putting every muscle in Izumi’s body on Red Alert. “You thought I’d stop being friends with you over _that?_ Screw you!”

Something in his chest lets go. Izumi elbows Hamada in the face. “Yeah, well…you…!” He’s trying to come up with a retort, but everything in him is crumbling, disintegrating, and it’s all he can do to hold on.

Fingers, prying the cup out of his hand. Setting it down on the table.

“If I hug you, will you promise not to do any lasting damage?”

Shaky, Izumi murmurs, “Does crying on you count?”

“Eh?”

He just shakes his head in response. Not looking up, he twists, collapses against Hamada. Except there’s no _against_ , there’s only _in_ , Hamada collecting the scattered pieces of him and gathering them up in his arms to hold tight, tight, as if the tighter he squeezed, the stronger his feelings would come across.

Izumi opens his mouth, wanting to tell him he’s stupid, push him away, but all that comes out is a solitary sob, water spilling from his squeezed-shut eyes to soak into Hamada’s t-shirt.

“You really thought I would hate you for that.” Hamada leans his cheek against Izumi’s head. There’s a peculiar note of awe in his voice that Izumi can’t even begin to puzzle out right now.

He’s mostly got his face under control, but he stays with his face buried in Hamada’s shoulder. “Well, you weren’t exactly cool about it when I said something before.”

“Wha…?” He can practically feel Hamada wracking his brain for it. He seems to give up, shaking his head. “I dunno what dumb stuff I said before, but like… A year ago, I couldn’t find Hong Kong on a map. Three years ago, I totally _hated_ green beans, but now I like ‘em just fine.” He laughs self-consciously. “I dunno what my point was, exactly, but… Past!me was dumb about a lot of things, okay? And I bet present!me is too. But that stuff changes.” He gives Izumi another squeeze. “What doesn’t change is that I have _two_ little brothers that I care about a lot.”

Izumi stiffens, then punches him in the ribs. “What the hell’s with all this mushy crap? I didn’t—”

“Quit with the tsun routine.” Hamada grinds his knuckles into Izumi’s temple. “You get it? I’m trying to say I’m sorry.”

Izumi bats his hand away. Then, despite himself, slings his arm around Hamada’s neck, his voice coming out soft. “I’m sorry too. I’m sorry for doubting you.” He can’t help thinking about his own past self, about the past!Izumi who would have thrilled at being held close like this, even if he didn’t get why yet.

“You’ve got nothing to apologise for,” Hamada says, voice gruff. “Now, quit snotting all over my shirt already, and drink up your hot chocolate before it gets cold.”

Smiling with his eyes closed, Izumi hugs him closer for a moment, then finally sits back, scrubbing the back of his hand over his eyes. Obediently, he picks up his mug and takes a sip. He can’t quite bring himself to look at Hamada, but he still smiles. “Thanks.”

* * *

[09:13pm]  
[From: Abe Takaya]  
[To: Mihashi Ren]  
[We need to talk about earlier.]  
[I'll see about coming over tomorrow after practice.]

Expecting Mihashi to avoid answering again, Abe doesn't even bother waiting for a reply, just drops his phone on the bed and heads down for supper. No one's around, and he's glad. His mind keeps circling around the confrontation, the suspicions he's be keeping down reaching up to dig icy fingers into his gut. It feels like there's something going on that he's not getting. _Was Mihashi actually unhappy about what happened, now that he’s had time to think about it?_

But much to his surprise (and relief), when he gets back to his room, the light on his phone blinks green.

[09:25pm]  
[From: Mihashi Ren]  
[Okay!]  
[I'm sorry.  
I didn't mean to make Tajima-kun get mad at you.]

At first, he just blinks down at the (pixelated and yet surprisingly clear) characters.

[09:36pm]  
[From: Abe Takaya]  
[That's not really the problem.]  
[We'll talk about it tomorrow;  
you should go to sleep.]

Mihashi doesn't reply, so he can only _assume_ he's read it. Maybe he was already asleep. Abe sighs out an irritated noise as he pulls on pyjamas. They need to talk things over as soon as possible, but even if Mihashi _had_ replied, texting feels like an inappropriate medium. Though it seemed like he might actually be able to get coherent information out of Mihashi that way… But it's late, and he's too tired. And anyway, going over to talk will be just as convenient and private: tomorrow’s practice ends early due to a faculty meeting. It’s simply a matter of practicality.

Grating out another irritated sound, Abe flops into bed, steadfastly ignoring his racing heart and the memory of Mihashi looking so very, very kissable in the sunset.


	12. Red Ace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so it took me a lil longer than planned BUT HERE

Abe's texts leave Mihashi equal parts excited and terrified, and he’s edgy all the next day. After all his screw-ups, he’s desperate to try to do better, to try to be more worthy of Abe’s affection, to try his best not to ruin this.

 _Because I really, really don’t wanna ruin this_.

And for the past two days, Mihashi’s been reeling with the realisation that maybe, just _maybe_ , he won’t.

_Maybe, each time we’re together, I don’t have to worry that it’ll be the last time. So long as I’m not selfish, so long as I don’t lie, don’t do anything wrong or annoying, Abe will maybe keep liking me. Even if it’s just a little._

Mihashi’s still sparkling with nerves when they bike to his house together after practice. They put their bikes away, then Mihashi trips over to the door to unlock it, glancing back to find Abe checking the contents of his bag. As soon as Abe looks up, though, Mihashi turns away, jumping when Abe asks, "Hey, is your mom coming home late today?"

"Y-yeah!" Excitement is winning out over anxiousness right now, so much so that it's almost easy to answer.

Inside, Mihashi drops his keys back in his bag and sits to take off his shoes and socks, smiling shyly up at Abe as he wiggles his hot toes against the cool tiles. When he stands, though, it hits him suddenly that he doesn't know where they're supposed to go. He _really_ wants to get Abe upstairs, have a chance to act on all his pent-up feelings and desires. And maybe distract him before he gets around to talking about scary things. (Even if that’s not _entirely_ in line with his new resolve to be less selfish…) Considering, Mihashi watches Abe tucking his shoes tidily off to the side. _He said making Tajima mad wasn't the problem…_ _What else have I done wrong…?_

Abe turns on him with arched brows, opens his mouth briefly, but apparently thinks better of whatever he'd wanted to say. He rubs his forehead, then looks directly at Mihashi, expression neutral, as he blurts out, "You're okay with what we're doing, aren't you? Have I been doing anything you don't like?"

Mihashi looks everywhere but at Abe, swinging agitatedly back and forth. "I…Abe-kun…I, um…" he begins, tapping his hands together in front of his chest, thinking furiously.

 _Isn't it obvious…? Can’t Abe usually see right through me? …Is there some_ other _reason he’s asking? What if I answer wrong? Abe might leave… But what if I answer right?_

Stilling, he peeks hopefully at Abe.

But Abe's jaw is clenched as he stares back, a slight crease between his eyebrows, and Mihashi drops his gaze almost immediately.

After a while, Abe inhales slowly and starts again. "I know you like being touched, but do you like that it's _me_ touching you?"

Brought up short, Mihashi sends him a startled look before examining the hall table intently. _Like…that…it's…Abe??_ The answer seems so obvious that he's left trying to figure out what it is he's missing. _Does Abe want to know if I'd_ like _it if it were someone else…?_ Blushing furiously, Mihashi runs through several possibilities of varying appeal, concluding that, while he wouldn't necessarily _hate_ someone else touching him, he _definitely_ prefers Abe.

Feeling warm, he opens his mouth to say as much when a terrible thought hits him, leaves him wobbly and terrified. _Is that what Abe wants, for me not to depend on him in this, too? I’m too much work._ After spending all afternoon with him the other day, Abe has to give up this rare free evening to come over to Mihashi’s house. _All because I messed up._ Mihashi frowns at their shoes as Abe squints at him suspiciously. _Abe works so hard, all the time, to be kind to me! He’s probably hoping I’ll say no, I’ll say I’m okay with someone else. Hoping I’ll let him go, not keep relying on him for everything, wasting all his time._

Mihashi’s legs give out, and he sinks to the floor.

_Maybe Abe really doesn't want to be here, just feels like he has to._

Abe’s still silent; Mihashi can’t look, but he’s sure he’s impatient for an answer. At least he thinks he’s got the right one, this time. Resigning himself, he forces out, "I-it's o…kay if a-Abe-kun d-d-doesn't wan-n-nt…" He can't seem to get enough breath, and continues in a small voice, "I w-won't…don't want…be a p-problem a-any…anymore…"

"What the _hell?_ Don't be an idiot. I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to do this!"

Mihashi squeaks and covers his head, shaking. _It was wrong I answered wrong I answered wrong I ruined everything—_

Abe makes a rough, frustrated sound and drops into a crouch, rummaging through his bag. He hauls out his practice clothes and slaps them down on the floor (provoking another terrified hiccup of sound from Mihashi) before pulling a cloth bag, held carefully closed with a drawstring, from the bottom of his bag. Mihashi watches him and it warily.

Gripping the bag tight, Abe brandishes it in front of his face. “Okay, _look_ , I got all of this stuff for us to use when we have sex! I wouldn’t _do_ that if I didn’t. Want. _You._ ”

Abe’s nearly shouting, but somehow, Mihashi’s curiousity is stubbornly elbowing fear out of the way. He turns on Abe, wide-eyed and hands clenching in front of his chest. Gasping in uneven breaths, he tries to speak, to at least totally process what Abe’s said.

Looking at his flushed face, Abe draws back a little, starting to make a questioning noise.

Before he can say anything, Mihashi launches himself at him with flailing enthusiasm, knocking Abe off his feet onto his butt and the bag onto the floor. As Mihashi clambers on top of him, Abe grabs at the back of his shirt, tugging. But Mihashi’s too happy to be deterred, shoving between his legs and flopping down to bury his face against his neck, frantic and squirmy and jamming his fingers under him in a hug.

Abe parts his legs for him, but seems frozen, startled, almost like he had in the kitchen. It would worry Mihashi more if he weren’t intent on forcing words out.

“I! I want Abe-k-kun! Want…here! With…with me! N-n-not…one else! Just…just…” He can’t find any more words, just wriggles happily with Abe’s fingers clenched and twisting in the back of his shirt.

In the moment of quiet after his outburst, it starts to dawn on Mihashi that they are in a very inappropriate position.

He blushes furiously, snuggling closer. _Is it…okay?_ Abe makes a low, abrupt noise, knees twitching in, squeezing him between his thighs. Mihashi tries his best to stay still, only an anticipatory tremor running through him. Stay still enough that he can be sure, certain of the feel of Abe’s dick hardening against him. He exhales heavily against Abe’s neck, gripping his shirt tighter. Waits, waits for Abe to pull him away, to tell him off, but it doesn’t come. Slowly, slowly, Mihashi starts moving, doing his best to contain the frantic desire pounding through him. His dick presses against Abe’s butt, and Abe moves, he moves _with_ Mihashi in a way that’s as intoxicating as the sound he breathes out into Mihashi’s hair.

Suddenly, there are palms on his shoulders pushing him up. Horrified, Mihashi clings to him.

“Mi,” Abe pants, “Mihashi, cut it out. We’re going upstairs. Right now.” Abe shoves harder, finally managing to dislodge Mihashi. Twisting to the side, he recovers the drawstring bag, then rolls to his feet. “C’mon. Up. I’ll follow.”

Still worried, Mihashi sits back on his heels. Then gapes openly. Abe is gorgeous, flushed still and rumpled and his erection pressing visibly against the front of his pants.

 _Upstairs sounds_ very _good right now._

“O-okay! Yeah!” Mihashi shakes himself and staggers to his feet, past a bemused Abe, and sprints up the stairs. He bangs his door open, rushes in, then dashes back out to poke his head around the corner and check to make sure Abe’s following.

Which he isn’t just yet. He finishes cramming his clothes back into his bag and leans it against the wall. But the drawstring bag is still clutched tightly in his fist. Mihashi can’t seem to look away from it and all that it might contain.

_What kind of…sex…things do we need?_

He’s caught up enough in his own intimidated excitement that he doesn’t notice it reflected in Abe’s face as he comes up the stairs. Mihashi skitters through the door, then back to peek at Abe once more. And Abe, Abe smiles at him, half-running the last few stairs and then crowding Mihashi back through the doorway before pulling it shut. It sets off fountain bursts of adrenaline in him, but not, not with fear, not now. Bouncy and smiling, Mihashi reaches for Abe’s shirt but stops at his raised hand. Reluctantly, he drops back, eyes following the bag as Abe holds it up.

“I brought you something.”

Mihashi’s eyes flick to his face. _For me?_

Before he can ask, Abe continues, “You mentioned that you liked…cute outfits. This won’t be exactly what you had in mind, but…” he finishes, shrugging casually.

Mihashi bounces on the balls of his feet. “Ah…! If…if Abe-kun p-picked…sure it’s awesome!” He keeps his hands pressed against his chest in an effort to keep them to himself. “C-can…can I…can I see?”

Expression unreadable, Abe hesitates, then finally nods. He unties the strings and wiggles the bag open. Mihashi watches raptly, holding his breath but smiling nervously.

Abe takes out what seems to be a jersey before tugging the bag closed with its remaining contents still hidden. Unfolding it, he reveals a ‘1’ patch tacked on the back, and, folded neatly inside, a pair of red boxer-briefs. Mihashi’s perplexed until he notices the white circle printed over the hip with another ‘1’ in its centre.

Mihashi can only stare at the clothes silently, too wrapped up in his own head to notice Abe’s closed-off nervousness or his intent study.

Mihashi releases his breath in a noisy rush and abruptly grabs hold of the underwear. “N-n-num…ber…” he mumbles, blushing brighter, and then looks up at Abe. “F-for…for me??”

Abe sighs, something like a smile playing at the corners of his lips, though there’s still a crease between his brows. “…Yeah, they’re for you. Do you want to wear them? We can forget it if you’re not interested.”

“ _No!!_ ” Letting go of the underwear, Mihashi yanks his shirt off, chucking it to the side, then reaches for the jersey. He stops himself just short of grabbing it out of Abe’s hands, reminding himself he’s _trying_ not to be so selfish now, and instead looks up at him with a ridiculously earnest expression. “I li…I like it! I w-wa- _want_ to! To wear…!” It’s super embarrassing to say, but he really doesn’t want to risk Abe putting the clothes back in his mysterious bag. _What_ else _is in there??_

Abe releases the jersey, watching with a mixture of confusion and interest as Mihashi stops for a moment to admire the ‘1’ patch and then rushes to unbutton and pull on the jersey.

Mihashi’s shaky with excitement, and it’s nearly impossible to do up the buttons when all he can think about is _we're going to have sex…! When I'm…when I'm wearing…_ “W-wan…to…” He trails off into an odd little laugh, shivering deliciously.

“Alright, finish getting changed quick, then.” Abe hands him the underwear and leans in to kiss his mouth quickly before slipping past him, leaving Mihashi frozen. So fast, and yet something in it heavy, off-balance, sending heat creeping over his shoulders. He turns to watch, kicking and flailing his way out of his pants, as Abe pulls off his own shirt.

_This time, this time I’m sure this isn’t just an accident!_

Clad only in a pair of white-seamed navy boxer-briefs, Abe sinks down on the edge of the bed, dropping the bag onto the floor. He turns his attention back to Mihashi, regarding him levelly. With a twitch, Mihashi finishes settling the underwear into place, smoothing his hand over the ‘1’.

“Come over here.” Abe’s voice is soft, soft, like a stroke down his back.

Mihashi tucks his fingers under the legband, skimming his thumb over the raised texture again. The underwear are a little loose, but that made it easier to fit his hard-on in them comfortably… _Wait…are they Abe’s? I’m wearing_ Abe’s _underwear?_ He breathes out another little laugh and hurries over to stand in front of Abe. Feeling suddenly unsure, though, he looks down, waiting, biting his lip and hunching his shoulders a little.

The inside of Abe’s wrist brushes Mihashi's as he grabs his hips. Mihashi looks up, breathing in sharply, surprised by Abe’s warm smile as he tugs him forward until he’s standing between his spread knees. Abe slides his hands down until they’re curled around the back of Mihashi’s thighs, resting just below his ass.

“You _really_ like being the ace, don’t you,” Abe breathes, not a question.

Mihashi can’t help feeling anxious under his close examination, but turned on, too, more than ready for whatever else Abe has in store.

Abe leans in until he can press his face against Mihashi’s stomach, nuzzling him a little. Mihashi draws in a shaky breath, then tentatively slides a hand into Abe’s hair. _This means…does this mean Abe likes it??_ He's caught between eagerness and fear, wanting to climb into Abe’s lap and wanting to run away and hide. Mihashi brings both hands up to stroke Abe’s hair, heart beating hard, then screws up the courage to ask, “Um… Um. D-d-do… Is this…is this okay?”

Abe tilts his head, looking up at Mihashi with his cheek still pressed against his stomach. “Yeah, of course,” he murmurs, his voice warm and slightly muffled, “You like it?” Blushing, Mihashi nods again, unable to speak but unable to look away from Abe’s eyes. That is, until Abe starts moving his hands again, stroking the back of Mihashi’s thighs, leaving him humming out a needy sound, eyes closing. Abe smooths his palms over Mihashi’s hips again, trailing little shocks of pleasure in their wake, until his hands are resting on either side of Mihashi’s dick. Mihashi’s hips twitch forwards, and he pants out a rough sound.

He doesn’t understand why Abe keeps asking him these questions. _Isn’t it obvious…? Do I even need to answer…?_ But dropping a hand to press against the ‘1’ on his hip, Mihashi can’t help feeling Abe’s confusing behaviour is maybe not the most important thing right now.

What is important is the sudden hand cupping his dick, the feel of Abe exhaling a heavy breath into the fabric of the jersey, leaving Mihashi gasping, pushing into Abe’s palm. And then he’s just flooded with _want_ , pushing Abe back to clamber gracelessly onto him, knocking his hands out of the way and half-kneeling in his lap. It’s uncomfortable, but Mihashi can’t bring himself to care, just wants to be _closer_ , make Abe stop asking him all these weird questions.

Abe quickly loops his arms around him, starting, “Mihashi—,” but before he can get any further, Mihashi grabs his shoulders, kissing him fiercely. It’s clumsy, their lips trapped against teeth until Abe adjusts his head. Mihashi sighs out a little breath, draping his arms over Abe’s shoulders, grateful for the steadying hold around his waist, grateful that even here, even with _this_ stuff, even if Mihashi’s no good at kissing, Abe will fix it, Abe will catch him, will make up for everything he lacks, make everything better.

 _Much_ better: Abe parts his lips and sucks on Mihashi’s lower lip, then gently bites it, letting his teeth drag over the delicate skin. Moaning, Mihashi grinds down against Abe. The red underwear are softer than he’s used to, delightful as he tilts his hips to rub their dicks together.

Abe lifts his hips to meet Mihashi’s but after a second, makes a noise of complaint into the kiss, then breaks it abruptly.

Mihashi’s not sure what, but he’s done something wrong again, he’s messed up and now Abe’s stormy-faced and grabbing him, hauling him up. He exhales slowly, like he’s mad, like he’s rethinking all of this, all his kindness. Mihashi’s fingers clench on Abe’s shoulders.

_I wasn’t going to be selfish anymore. I wasn’t, but I can’t change how terrible I am._

“Alright, off. Shift over onto the bed.” Without waiting for a response, he hauls Mihashi off him.

Meekly, Mihashi lets himself be moved over onto the bed, kicking himself back until he hits the headboard. His mind is racing _. I wasn’t supposed to do that. Wasn’t supposed to climb on Abe like that._ _I should’ve waited until Abe told me what to do, shouldn’t keep just going around doing what I want. It was inevitable that I’d do something stupid, trying to do things on my own. I was wrong before: there’s only so much Abe can compensate for me, only so much he can do with someone as useless as me..._

Avoiding Abe’s eyes, Mihashi curls over, only to see the red underwear, the big white circle with the ‘1’. He draws his knees up so it crumples and is hidden between his thigh and body. He doesn’t deserve it. Doesn’t deserve _any_ of this.

He _knows_ Abe’s furious, _must_ be, and Mihashi shakes, hugging his legs close and hiding his face against his knees. But nothing happens, which just makes his fear mount faster. There’s no sound but Abe shifting on the bed. Mihashi scrunches himself up even smaller. Something _really_ bad is going to happen.

He jumps when he feels Abe’s hands on his knees, eyes flicking up.

With the slow press of his fingers, Abe starts to push his knees apart, leaning in; Mihashi stays tensed up, resists at first, but… Abe’s being startlingly gentle, and he doesn’t want to make him even _more_ mad, so he lifts his head a little, lets him push closer.

“Hey,” Abe says quietly, leaning in to kiss Mihashi’s forehead, his temple, down to his ear, nuzzling insistently. Mihashi’s still gripped with terror, but Abe murmurs, “Don’t hide from me,” leaning in and enveloping him in his warmth and smell.

His muscles relax in jerky increments and the trembling stops. He brings a hand to Abe’s face, holding him close, barely believing in the feel of Abe’s lips pressing against his skin again, barely believing in the way Abe immediately leans into his touch, barely believing Abe would be so kind to him, even now, even after he’s messed up yet _again_ , even after he’s been so greedy. Rubbing his cheek against Abe’s, Mihashi’s eyelids flutter shut.

Which is about when he notices his eyes are full of tears. Startled, he stills; _was I crying before…? No… I don’t even really feel bad anymore, just feel... So why…?_

At any rate, if Abe notices, he’ll only get angry again, so he’s got to do his best to hide it. All he wants is to throw his arms around Abe’s neck and kiss him over and over, not feel confused and overwhelmed and too good and like his chest is going to burst.

Well, he can at least _try_ to do the former. Tilting his head, Mihashi kisses Abe, slowly and lightly. Abe kisses back easily, softly, hands pushing more insistently on Mihashi’s knees. Mihashi parts his legs willingly; even if he didn’t really, _really_ need Abe as close as possible right now, he’d do whatever he wanted if it would keep him from noticing the tears. Once Abe settles, fits his body in between his thighs, Mihashi hums a pleased noise, closing his legs enough to gently hold Abe, the sensation of bare skin-on-skin sending blood to his dick again. Abe slides his hands under the jersey, dragging his fingertips back and forth along the waistband of the underwear at Mihashi’s sides, making him shiver, breathing out a whimper that’s _maybe_ a little too close to a sob.

Abe breaks the kiss, then presses his forehead against Mihashi’s, and at first, Mihashi just rests against him, luxuriating in their quiet intimacy, in the feel of Abe’s hands on him. But as the silence stretches on, it seems more and more likely that Abe’s noticed the tears.

 _But…he’s not getting angry? And he’s…and he’s still touching me, still petting me…_ Eyes downcast, Mihashi opens and closes his mouth a few times, wishing he could speak, wishing he could explain that he’s not upset anymore. Wishing he could tell Abe about the strange way his chest feels, the deliciously aching _want_ that keeps filling him up whenever he’s near that goes so much further than just wanting sex.

He looks up suddenly, pulling back to gape at Abe, who gives him a startled look in return, then frowns slightly in confusion. No…he absolutely _can’t_ say any of that stuff to Abe. Abe might want to have sex, might want to be nice to him, maybe even spend time with him, but it’s not like _that_ for him. He would’ve _said_ , he would’ve _told_ Mihashi when they talked after the first time, or the other day, or any number of times, if things were like that between them.

But he didn’t, so they aren’t. _So I'll have to keep anything else, any dumb, selfish feelings, a secret_.

He’s been staring at Abe for too long. Abe’s being so patient with him, still petting him with warm palms, broad strokes from his ribcage to the waistband of the underwear. _And here I am, getting all these weird ideas and causing problems and not doing the thing that Abe obviously came here for_. Mihashi leans in and kisses Abe again, willing him to somehow understand that he wants to keep going, that it doesn’t _matter_ that he’s crying, that he’s okay. He smooths his hand up Abe’s arm, over his shoulder to trace along his collarbone, hoping desperately that he understands.

And for once it seems Abe does, returning the kiss hungrily. Making a low, muffled sound, he opens his mouth insistently. Mihashi follows his lead, sucking in Abe’s lower lip, swiping his tongue across it, then moans into his mouth, arching. He feels Abe’s dick twitching against his thighs, a positive feedback rush that leaves him arching again, needy for more reassurance and for the heat of Abe’s mouth. He splays his hands out over Abe’s chest, petting him in slow circles up over his shoulders, his neck, then back down again. It feels, it feels like he succeeded, like his feelings got through.

_Abe really is amazing._

Abe catches the bottom of the jersey, fumbling for a moment, then unbuttons it from the bottom up, not bothering to look at what he’s doing. Mihashi can’t bring himself to help but makes encouraging noises into Abe’s mouth and trails a hand up to fist in his hair. Finally, with all the buttons undone and the jersey hanging open, Abe smooths his hand over the soft skin of Mihashi’s stomach, then slides a hand up, over his stomach and his chest. When his fingertips brush against a nipple, he pinches it lightly.

Mihashi gasps in sharply, dragging air from Abe’s lungs into his own, then squirms, hips jerking up into the empty space between them. Abe finally breaks the kiss, glancing down at Mihashi’s chest with blatant, embarrasing interest.

Immediately missing Abe’s lips, Mihashi makes a questioning noise edging dangerously close to a whine. It transforms into a breathless “A-a…Abe-k-k…nn _nnn!_ ” as Abe pinches his nipple again, dropping his other hand down to trace teasing fingers along the length of his dick through soft fabric.

Mihashi pushes into his hand, but Abe pulls it away before he can really make contact, hooking his fingers under the waistband of the underwear and tugging them down. He’s so obviously looking and Mihashi can’t understand, can’t understand his hazy expression and the low, pleased noise he makes. Can only whimper in response, slipping his hand out of Abe’s hair to cup his face, trail down his neck.

Abe licks his lips, mouth twitching open on a pant. He seems hesitant for a second, or maybe torn, but all in a rush, he ducks in so he can drag his tongue over the nipple he just pinched. It pulls a stuttered gasp out of Mihashi; he jerkily bends forwards, fingers digging into Abe’s shoulders, making him groan, leaning his face against Mihashi’s chest, his lips catching where they touch his skin. He tightens his grip on Mihashi’s underwear, flexing his fingers a couple of times, breath coming in heavy pants through his nose, before he can make himself let go. Kissing Mihashi’s chest (though he avoids his nipple for now), he slides his hand up, across his ribcage, fingers splaying, pressing lightly.

They simply breathe together, Mihashi’s chest heaving under Abe’s fingers, against his cheek. Mihashi slides his fingers back into Abe’s hair, curving to kiss his head, then gasping in quick breaths before kissing again.

Abe swallows audibly. “Mihashi.” The word comes out in a pant and as soon as it passes his lips, he sucks Mihashi’s nipple and works his tongue against it, leaving him crying out, squirming, fingers tightening in his hair. He’s so unbelievably gorgeous, his dark hair and the lines of shoulders and back tautly curved, knees spreading and hips slowly tilting. Mihashi gasps, staring at the beautiful curve of his butt, at the luxuriant shifting of his body.

Mihashi hooks his calves around Abe’s thighs, pulling. The bedsheets bunch under Abe’s knees as he moves closer, close enough that when Mihashi braces his shoulders on the headboard, lifting his hips and shoving the underwear down around his thighs, he’s _almost_ able to push his dick against his stomach. Almost, but with Abe curved over him, still sucking his nipple, he can’t, falling back to the bed with a panted cry, thumbs still hooked in the waistband of the underwear.

Abe curls his arm around Mihashi’s waist, palm flattening to drag over his skin until he has him caught in the circle of his arm, and Mihashi probably _could_ move now, but…he doesn’t want to. Especially not with Abe slowly raising his head, glancing up with dark eyes and then nipping gently before pulling away entirely. Mihashi’s nipple is wet with spit, lightly swollen from the suction, and the air feels agonisingly cool on his skin; he has half a moment to want Abe’s mouth back on it before Abe pinches it, tugging gently. Mihashi hiccups out a cry that’s immediately cut off as Abe presses their mouths together in a messy kiss.

“Want me to suck you off again?” He speaks in a slow murmur, each word heavy with restrained impatience.

“I…I…” Mihashi starts, staring dazedly at Abe’s mouth. Absently, he raises his hand to Abe’s lips, runs his fingertips over them and then his thumb, catching a little on the corner of his mouth as he smooths it across. “Yeah…p-please?”

Abe turns his head into Mihashi’s touch, catching his hand and kissing his palm, the pale inside of his wrist, the base of his thumb, mouth opening in a sucking kiss. He pulls back, letting go of Mihashi’s hand, so that he can wriggle down along the bed, sitting back on his knees to look down at him. The red underwear are still caught around his upper thighs, the ‘1’ design obscured by folds. Abe grabs hold of them, but hesitates, looking up; Mihashi’s brows draw together, and his fingers curl tighter in the fabric, but then he releases it. He shifts so Abe can slip them down, sliding his hands over Mihashi’s thighs, down past his knees to stroke over his feet as he pulls the underwear free, tossing them to the side.

Mihashi grabs them, not entirely sure why, but gripping them tightly anyway. He was a little disappointed when it became obvious Abe was taking them off, but it was also _really_ hot, having Abe undress him, so Mihashi’s not about to complain. And certainly not now, with Abe pushing between his legs, forcing them to part enough so he can lay between his thighs, gripping Mihashi’s hips and holding him down. He’s rough, impatient-seeming, and it leaves Mihashi feeling electric, it’s almost as exciting as the hot hand that wraps around his dick. Abe’s lips brush stickily over the head of Mihashi’s dick, but then he pauses and looks up at him. “Don’t move.”

“W-won’t…” he pants in response, eyes wide, hips almost quivering with the effort of obeying.

Abe squeezes Mihashi’s dick, sliding his hand up just short of the head before he grips the base again. “Good,” he replies, voice low and strained as he finally breaks eye-contact.

A shiver runs up Mihashi’s spine at that single word, and he grits his teeth with the effort of staying still, desperate for more praise. With soft, parted lips, Abe eases the tip of Mihashi’s dick into his mouth and slicks his tongue over the head. Mihashi makes a tense, half-strangled noise, leg muscles contracting, toes spreading.

_Hopefully, none of that counts as moving??_

Inhaling a shaking breath through his nose, Abe begins to suck, sliding further down, and Mihashi’s _definitely_ trembling now, almost grateful when Abe pushes harder on his hip with a low, muffled sound, actively pinning him down.

It’s too much, too much when Abe presses his tongue along the underside of his dick as he slides back, but just when he’s certain he’s going to come, Abe pauses, letting the head rest against his lips.

But only long enough for Mihashi to gasp out a strangled, "A-Abe-kun!" and then he takes him into his mouth again, sucking steadily, glancing up at him through his lashes. Mihashi’s entranced by the hazy look in his eyes, even more by the slow rock of Abe’s hips, very obviously grinding his erection against the bed as he bobs his head again. It’s mystifying, but also really hot that Abe’s still so turned on, even when he’s having to do stuff for Mihashi.

Abe swallows around his dick, then pulls back so he can work his wet tongue over the head, making Mihashi cry out, heels digging into the bed. He sucks slowly down along the side of his dick until his lips are pressed to the base, the pauses there, breath hot and ragged and agonizing not-quite-contact. Mihashi stares down at him, chest heaving, with a frantically imploring expression, though whether for Abe to stop or keep going, he's not sure.

Abe catches his eye, hips hitching forward, licking his lips in way that breaks a pathetic cry out of Mihashi. Abe pants out a heavy breath, but doesn't make Mihashi wait any longer, opening his mouth and sucking back up the length of his dick until he can lick over the head. Mihashi bites his lip, shivering, as Abe traces the underside with his tongue; he's beautiful like this, with his eyelids slipping shut as he curls his fingers on Mihashi's hip, fingertips digging in firmly.

He tries really, _really_ hard to stay still as Abe bobs his head, fast and shallow, but when he presses his tongue over the tip, all plush and wet and soft, it's not possible. Mihashi chokes out a rough cry, hips stuttering up; Abe's grip on his hip slips as he pushes his dick against his tongue, hand falling to plant beside Mihashi on the bedsheets. Abe grabs them, making a tight, abrupt noise, and he freezes, spine curved to push his dick hard against the bed, as Mihashi comes noisily, curling over him. Each tiny twitch of his hips sets off a new burst of pleasure, rippling through him, drawing plaintive, panting moans out of him as the last of his come splatters across Abe's lips and cheek.

Mihashi falls back against the headboard, breathing hard, eyes closed and cheeks flushed. He's suddenly self-conscious, worried Abe will be mad... _that I..._ Mihashi cracks an eye open, getting a quick look at Abe's intense expression, at the come on his face, then squeezes his eyes shut again, turning his head and pressing his chin against his hunched shoulder. Still, even waiting for Abe to start yelling, he can't suppress the delighted shiver that runs up his spine, seeing him like that. Mihashi turns even redder, wondering if Abe would ever do that to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh whenever I write Mihashi having sex and he DOESN'T cry, I'm like *high fives self*


	13. Lead

Abe's nearly breathless as he swallows the bitterness in his mouth, too caught up in how fucking _hot_ Mihashi's orgasm to be bothered by it or the mess on his face. Slowly, he releases his dick, planting his hands on either side of Mihashi's hips so he can prop himself up, trying to get a look at Mihashi's face.

His own mouth open on quick breaths, he admires the state he finds Mihashi in, all flushed skin and bared chest heaving, tongue darting out to moisten his lips as he rubs his cheek against his shoulder. Abe wants to shove into his space and kiss him breathless, but he doesn't want to get Mihashi filthy too, so he resists. A hot flush spreads down his neck as he considers what _he_ must look like right now, nearly panting, face a mess, with his hips still occasionally twitching to grind his dick down against the bed.

Mihashi's eyes finally flutter open, focusing hazily on Abe. Derailing any further thoughts he might've had, Mihashi flops forward and kisses him. For an instant, he's frozen, lips soft and swollen under Mihashi's. He can feel the come on his face smearing, and he tenses, but kisses back anyway, mouth partly open. Mihashi tilts his head, nudging their noses together, humming a happy sound into his mouth, then flicks his tongue just on the inside of Abe's lips before pushing into his mouth. Abe eagerly slides his tongue against Mihashi’s, pushing himself up a little higher on his hands. Intends to kiss him even deeper when Mihashi breaks the kiss. His odd little laugh tells Abe everything he needs to know.

He swipes his fingers over his mouth as Mihashi smiles shyly at him. “Mm, sorry, you might not want to kiss me right now.” Mihashi gives him a perplexed look. Abe’s still a little breathless, but he makes himself sit up as he reaches out to grip Mihashi’s chin, enjoying the way his eyes widen slightly. “…Now you’re a mess, too. Hold on. Just…gimme a second.” Abe finds he’s more tolerant of the taste of come than he’d like to think about, but he doesn’t expect Mihashi to feel the same way about it, of course.

He slides across the bed, feeling Mihashi’s rapt attention. Particularly when he bends over the edge of the bed to grab his bag. Pushing aside rising self-consciousness, he rummages around in it for a second before pulling out a soft face cloth. He wipes his own face clean, then holds it out to Mihashi.

“Here. Clean up a bit.”

Mihashi takes it from him with both hands, scrubbing his face vigourously, then blinking at Abe with a tiny smile and pink cheeks. Abe takes the cloth from him, folding it up and sticking it back into his bag. He looks back over at Mihashi, and has to stare. Seeing him so rosy-faced and happy makes him feel warm inside, and he smiles a bit as he makes a beckoning gesture.

“Mihashi. Move away from the headboard.”

Mihashi’s smile widens a little in response to his and he eagerly scoots down the bed until his knees are either side of Abe’s feet. Abe watches him come closer, chest and shoulders moving as he breathes deep, drawn-out breaths, flushed and glassy-eyed with arousal.

Tentatively, Mihashi lifts one, and then both hands, sets them on Abe’s thighs just above his knees, and leans closer, the hanging front of the jersey betraying his slight tremble. Abe’s muscles tense under his touch, but he’s intent on watching him lean in. Before Mihashi’s lips touch his, though, he lifts a hand to cup his face, fingers sliding along his jaw until they’re buried in his hair. He tugs gently and tips his own head back.

“Wait. Don’t kiss me just yet.” He pulls his hair harder, enjoying the sensation and the little startled close-mouthed sound Mihashi makes, the way his eyes widen. Gesturing to his own legs, he continues, “Sit like this, okay?”

Haltingly, Mihashi slides his hands off Abe’s legs, sitting back with his ankles crossed in front of him. Then switches so his other leg is on top. Abe waits for him to settle down, but when he switches a second time, looking increasingly distressed, he tugs on his hair again and sighs.

“Okay, you got it right, so sit _still_ , already.” Reluctantly, he releases Mihashi’s hair as he rises on his knees, sparing a thought to be grateful that Mihashi’s obviously too immediately captivated by his movement to get upset at the reprimand. Abe hooks his thumbs under the waistband of his underwear, stretching the fabric away from his body so that it doesn’t catch on his dick, then pushes them down his thighs, lifting each knee in turn before kicking them off. When he looks up, Mihashi’s eyeing his dick with obvious interest, biting his lip and turning a brilliant shade of red. As Abe walks forward on his knees, Mihashi’s eyes slip up his body almost comically. Mihashi lifts his hands, but stays still otherwise while Abe lowers himself into his lap, legs wrapped around him so that his ankles are crossed at Mihashi’s lower back.

Abe eagerly pushes his hands into Mihashi’s hair, immediately tugging and guiding Mihashi’s face to his so that he can kiss him, light, closed-mouth kisses that he’s quick to repeat. Mihashi finally sets his hands on his thighs, gradually sliding them up as Abe shifts around in his lap, hips tilting back. His mouth opens on a rushed exhale when his dick accidentally brushes against Mihashi’s stomach, drawing a soft answering gasp out of him. Mihashi looks down curiously, only to have his head tugged insistently back up. Abe shifts again, making an irritated sound, then pulls Mihashi’s hair a little harder, sucking on his lower lip and then licking into his mouth, dragging his tongue against Mihashi’s. Powerful thumbs press against his hipbones, then Mihashi slides his hands up, around his waist; Abe makes sure to keep his body still, now, hoping he’ll follow through and grab his ass like he did last time. As Mihashi moves his hands slowly down his back, Abe inhales a stuttering breath through his nose and slicks his tongue further into Mihashi’s mouth.

When he finally gets his hands onto Abe’s ass properly, cupping it gently, his hips twitch, a tiny push that nudges his dick against Mihashi’s stomach again and leaves a smear of precome on his skin. Mihashi moans into his mouth, fingers twitching, then squeezing more confidently, making Abe muffle a groan.

Feeling suddenly lightheaded, Abe breaks the kiss to breathe heavily, cheek-to-cheek with Mihashi. He arches, spine curving, pressing his ass back into Mihashi’s hands, who breathes out a soft, “Wow…” cutting off with a choked gasp when Abe outright _pulls_ his hair, Mihashi’s hips twitching even with his weight pressing him down.

Abe’s hot and jittery and nervous, even though he knew this was going to happen, _planned_ for this to happen. “Go ahead and touch more,” he says, forcing his voice to stay steady.

Mihashi returns his hands to the small of his back, turning his head a little to nuzzle behind Abe’s ear as he smooths them back down and under. Abe slowly loosens his grip on Mihashi’s hair and just drags his fingers through it, nails scraping gently against his scalp. Somehow, this is far more embarrassing than he’d anticipated, especially since Mihashi isn’t even hard yet. It’s so much more difficult to keep a clear head when someone else is touching him, something all his research and experimentation could never prepare him for. All his planning suddenly seems overambitious and he’s hyper-aware of the bag sitting next to them on the bed. If he could convince himself to move, he’d love to knock it right onto the floor where they could both forget about it.

Instead, he just continues to push back into Mihashi’s touch, hips jerking a little when he strokes just beneath his ass, dragging his fingertips out along his thighs and then back. Stilling his hands with another firmer squeeze, Mihashi presses his lips against Abe’s neck, just behind his jaw, then trails kisses down to the dip of his collarbone. Abe inhales a steadying breath, chin lowering until it’s nearly touching the side of Mihashi’s head, sliding one hand down to his nape, squeezing lightly as Mihashi starts moving his hands again. Brushing them lightly over Abe’s ass and upper thighs, tilting his head to kiss his neck, lips wet and soft.

Abe breathes slowly and strokes Mihashi’s nape, petting him, as if to keep himself calm. He makes himself stay still through all Mihashi’s tentative but enthusiastic groping, through the sucking kisses he presses to his throat. But his self-control is already pulled paper-thin, so when Mihashi’s fingers slide down along the cleft of his ass, he groans openly, arching into his touch. He drops his hand to grip Mihashi’s thigh, fingertips leaving small dents on his soft skin as he curses under his breath. Mihashi’s hips jerk, pushing his hardening dick against Abe, and he makes a soft sound against his skin, nuzzling him.

Abe doesn’t expect Mihashi to figure things out all on his own. He knows he’s going to have to demonstrate what he wants Mihashi to do if he wants it to happen, but a part of him wishes he didn’t _have_ to. That Mihashi could just _figure it out._

Mihashi _does_ seem to realise he’s hit upon something good, though, dragging his fingers back up the curve of Abe’s ass and pressing his fingers against the cleft again, then bringing both hands to cup his ass firmly, pulling him against himself. Abe’s dick touches Mihashi’s stomach, and he rocks his hips, rubbing against him with a shuddering gasp. He gets a hand down between them and curls it around Mihashi’s dick, sliding his fingers down the length. Mihashi shivers, moans, tipping his head down, then smooths his palms down under Abe’s ass, then up, spreading him slightly. Abe flushes fever hot, skin prickling. He clenches his teeth, jaw flaring, before his mouth falls open on a strained pant that he breathes into Mihashi’s hair. His dick twitches, a drop of precome dripping onto Mihashi.

“…Let me go for a second. I want to do something,” he says, already pulling away. Mihashi nods, sliding his hands down over Abe’s thighs before dropping them to lean back on them. Abe draws his legs back from where they’re curled around Mihashi, pulling them in so he can kneel on the bed. He grabs the bag from where he had abandoned it on the bed, and, after rummaging through it for a second, he takes out a partially used tube of lube.

Even _seeing_ the package is embarrassing, and he glances over at Mihashi. And then follows his line of sight down to Mihashi’s dick. Abe thought he’d been getting hard already, but now he’s partly soft, and, for reasons unknown, he seems…upset?

Abe looks at the tube in his hand, then, walking on his knees, he comes over to straddle Mihashi’s lap. “What’s wrong?” he asks bluntly, still breathless.

Mihashi looks up with a startled expression. “I… Don’t…” Abe watches as Mihashi dithers, stuttering and avoiding eye-contact like usual. His brows draw together slowly, but he blinks, surprised when he feels Mihashi’s hands brushing up his thighs. “A…don’t…” Mihashi slides his hands on to Abe’s hips, eyes lighting on the tube in his hand. “Th…what’s that?”

Sighing, Abe leans in until he can rest his forehead against Mihashi’s, nuzzling him. “…Fine, alright. We’ll talk about it _later_ ,” he mutters, actually rather pleased to move on from whatever was wrong. Mihashi puffs out a relieved breath, tilting his head up enough that he can rub his nose sweetly against Abe’s. The tube feels heavy in his hand and he can feel his stomach tense, but he still lifts his head so he can see Mihashi’s face. “It’s lube. We’re going to,” he pauses, gaze flicking down for a second, Mihashi’s eyes following his, “use it so you can put your fingers inside me.” Blunt is better, he tells himself. Blunt is better. “I’ll do it myself for a minute, first.”

Abe can nearly see the moment that Mihashi understands what he’s saying: turning red as he stares down at Abe’s lap, as though there would be some kind of explanation hanging in the air between them. He’s honestly grateful he didn’t have to explain in any more detail. Maybe some other time (if he has to), but right now, he’s simultaneously too aroused and too nervous. He just wants to _do_ this, not talk about it.

Abe didn't think Mihashi could turn any redder, but when he shifts under him, making his dick press briefly against Abe's skin, he gasps, practically _glowing_. He takes a deep breath. "Um... I...I... If...c-can make a-a-Abe-kun f-feel good," he starts, sliding his arms around Abe's waist and looking up at him with such an earnest expression that he can't help but smile, "I want to!"

Abe leans down, tilting his chin so he can kiss Mihashi, then tucks his face against his neck as he lowers himself until Mihashi's dick is pressed against his ass. He rocks his hips once, skin sliding over skin, leaving Mihashi moaning, hips twitching as he slides his hands back down to cup his ass. Abe's heart is pounding, and he can't make himself lift his head just yet, keeping his flushed face hidden against Mihashi's neck. Still, when Mihashi whimpers and thrusts against him, he rolls his hips to meet him, breath punching out of him against Mihashi's skin.

He's been thinking about Mihashi fucking him since the first time he'd fingered himself. And with the way Mihashi's pushing his erection against him, trailing one hand up his spine and then burying it in his hair, it feels like he might be thinking about it, too. But Abe can't assume that, and it's too soon for that, he knows that

He bites Mihashi's shoulder, gently so as to not leave a mark but enjoying the tight noise he makes, then lifts his head. He's as composed as he'd going to get. Reluctantly, he raises himself up, no longer touching Mihashi's dick, then nudges him back, making space for himself. Mihashi leans back on one hand, absently petting Abe's thigh with the other one, watching in fascination. Before he can lose his nerve entirely, Abe flips open the cap of the lube and squeezes some out onto his fingers. Spreading his legs more, he curls forward, reaches back to slowly begin working a finger into himself.

The wet slick of the lube seems suddenly loud, and Abe closes his eyes. He can't watch Mihashi watch him right now. He leans forward, curving in on himself and stretching his arm so he can push his finger in deeper still. He's tighter than the other times he's done this, but he can't seem to make himself relax. Slow, but impatient, he slides his finger in as deep as he can, shuddering, holding his breath for a moment. There's a light sheen of sweat on his skin as he flexes his wrist, dragging his finger partway out before slicking it back in.

And then Mihashi reverently murmurs, "A-Abe-kun is...is gor...geous."

Concentration broken, Abe opens his eyes wide, staring in bewilderment. "Why are you saying that _now?_ " he mutters as he bumps his head against Mihashi's shoulder. Theoretically, it shouldn't be a surprise that Mihashi finds him attractive; he _had_ said that he liked watching him. But it's different, hearing something like that now. Hearing it when he's doing something that leaves him feeling so exposed.

Mihashi presses his face into his hair, inhaling deeply, then starts, "Ah, it...it's because I al...ways..." He turns his head, looking down. "I just..." Either giving up, or perhaps still trying to express himself, Mihashi slides one hand up his thigh, hesitating a moment, then wraps his fingers around the base of Abe's dick.

Abe exhales, a slow, stuttering noise, leaning into Mihashi's shoulder, cheek dragging over his skin as he turns his head. Mihashi hums a pleased sound, stroking up the length of his dick, squeezing lightly just below the head before gently sliding his hand back down. Rather than freeze up, Abe pushes in a second finger and curls them deep inside once before drawing them back out to fuck himself with them again. He pants into Mihashi's skin, mouth open and damp, and his entire body seems to sway forward with the motion of his fingers. He makes a tense sound as Mihashi drags his hand up and down his dick, melting into a warm hum before he pushes his face against the side of Mihashi's neck, sucking a kiss, then scraping his teeth over the same spot. Mihashi squirms.

"If you keep on doing that, you won't even get a _chance_ to do anything else," Abe whispers roughly, hips rocking forward, pushing his dick into Mihashi's fist.

Mihashi stops, flinching, but then releases his dick; Abe's hips twitch, but he forces himself to still, even halting the movement of his fingers as Mihashi places his hand on his hip.

Abe rubs his face against Mihashi's shoulder a couple of times, resigned to the fact that he has to move, but unwilling to do so just yet. He wants to come so badly it nearly _hurts_. Still, he's the one who set them on this course, and he's damn well going to follow through. Also, although he's reluctant to admit it to himself, the thought of Mihashi fingering him is hot enough that it'll be worth the wait.

Slowly, he pulls his fingers out and sits back, kneeling properly. His hair is sticking to his forehead and his eyes are hazy as he looks around, and while his mouth is closed, the breaths he pulls in through his nose are quick, his entire body seeming to move along with them. He grabs his bag with his clean hand, using another cloth to wipe off his fingers and the lube that had spread down onto his palm.

Dropping the cloth, he finally looks at Mihashi, who meets his eyes with a delightful little shiver. Abe stares back while he considers how to do this. "I'm going to lie on my back. I think it’ll be better,” he says after a moment’s hesitation. “You just have to do what I tell you to do, okay?” Mihashi nods enthusiastically, eyes bright, as Abe stretches his legs out and leans back on his elbows. “Come here.”

Mihashi follows him until he’s kneeling between his legs, leaning over Abe slightly, hands planted either side of his waist. He leans forward more, and Abe expects him to try for a kiss, but with what seems to be great effort of will, he sits back on his heels, waiting patiently. Though he does slide his hands closer to Abe’s hips, brushing his thumbs against them, but making no other move to touch him just yet.

Abe’s incredibly aroused by even the _thought_ of what they’re about to do, but even he finds it intimidating. Still, after taking a moment to catch his breath, he reaches out and grabs the bottle of lube, holding it out to Mihashi. “Here. You need to use lube, or it might hurt.” Mihashi takes it from him, staring between Abe and the tube with wide, concerned eyes. “Too much is better than too little, but don’t go crazy.” Abe shifts down until his shoulders are flat against the bed as he spreads his legs more, hips tilting up, lifting his feet so they’re hovering on either side of Mihashi’s hips. Positioning himself like this feels incredibly lewd, and he knows it’s only going to get more embarrassing. Before he can think too much about it, he draws his knees up, closer to his chest, so Mihashi can reach his ass.

He has to force himself to look at Mihashi’s face. He absolutely _refuses_ to let embarrassment get the better of him. Mihashi meets his eyes with an anxious little smile, then glances down briefly, inhaling shakily with a little wriggle, before focusing back on Abe. And then glancing down again. Back at his face.

“Okay, here,” Abe says, making a beckoning gesture, “kiss me for a minute.” The words are barely out of his mouth before Mihashi’s leaning over him on hands and knees, just looking at him for a breath and then dipping down to nudge their noses together. Mihashi presses a wet, open-mouthed kiss to his lips, and Abe brings his hands up, cupping Mihashi’s face as he returns the kiss, sucking and gently biting his lower lip. Lowering himself to his elbows, Mihashi presses his skinny chest against his, rocks his hips so their dicks slide against each other; Abe hums a vague pleased noise into Mihashi’s mouth, his hands slipping up into his hair, tugging lightly at first. Mihashi moans, pushing, rubbing up against him, then shifts his weight so he can slide one hand down the back of Abe’s thigh, pulling his hips away enough so he can cup Abe’s ass, squeezing as he rocks his hips forward again. With each of Mihashi’s little thrusts, Abe pulls harder on his hair, drawing little urgent noises out of him. His hips roll, pushing back against Mihashi as he briefly sucks on the wet tongue that pushes between his lips before he tugs him back, breaking the kiss. Mihashi pulls against his hands, making a frustrated noise; he’s so obviously excited, and Abe _loves_ it. Every little pant and moan. All his wiggling and desperate grinding. _All_ of it. Feeling his slight weight atop him, between his thighs, makes him want to abandon his own plan so they can just grind against each other until they come.

Mouth open and breath warm, he nuzzles his face against Mihashi’s, making a frustrated noise of his own. “Mihashi, that’s enough kissing for now. Sit back so we can start.” Mihashi just quivers against him for a second, then pushes himself back with one last rock of his hips, hands sliding down Abe’s inner thighs to rest just above his ass.

And then releases him to start frantically scrabbling around in the sheets. Abe looks up at him, just watching as he digs around, but his question is answered before he can even ask when Mihashi brandishes the lube at him. He drops his head back into the blankets, readjusting his position, knees spreading a little more as Mihashi pops open the cap.

“Um, is…is this e-enough?” Mihashi asks, and Abe lifts his head briefly to look, taking in his worried expression, then nods. Maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned getting hurt.

“Yeah, should be. I’ll let you know if you need more.” He exhales a quiet, shaking breath. “Go ahead and use two fingers, since I did earlier. Just, uh, go slow.” His heart _pounds_.

There’s a quiet thump when Mihashi drops the tube on the bed, and then he rests his free hand on his ass. Mihashi takes a deep breath. Abe closes his eyes when he feels Mihashi’s slick fingers press against his hole; he grips the blanket, but forces himself to let it go instantly. He flexes his fingers, then rests his hands on the bed, keeping them as relaxed as possible.

Mihashi presses his fingers against the opening; the longer he hesitates, the worse Abe’s anticipation grows, so that when he actually pushes the tips of his fingers in, it comes as a relief. But Mihashi stops there, as though startled by the sensation. The feeling of being stretched open makes Abe’s skin burn hot with embarrassment, and his legs twitch in a tiny bit. As if he could cover himself now. It’s _completely_ different when he does this to himself. Still, he steels himself, knowing that Mihashi is depending on him for instruction.

“Good. Like that,” he says, quietly, “Don’t worry. Push in deeper.”

Mihashi doesn’t respond, but he does slip his fingers in further, then draws them out, swirling more lube onto his fingers before pushing them back in. Abe makes a tight noise low in his throat, head pushing back into the bed. Evidently feeling a bit more confident that he’s not about to horribly injure Abe at any moment, Mihashi slowly slicks his fingers in and out of him, working them in a little bit deeper each time, leaning his other hand on the back of Abe’s thigh. Abe’s stomach tenses, trembling lightly, and now he can’t stop himself from gripping the bed sheets. More than the physical sensation itself, the knowledge that Mihashi is actively fucking him with his fingers makes Abe’s embarrassment melt into mind-numbing arousal. His dick is achingly hard again, wet at the tip and curving in towards his stomach.

He arches and pants out an incomprehensible word, then swallows quickly before he tries speaking again. “Mihashi. Curl your fingers a little when they’re inside.” Part of him wants to keep his eyes closed, to just enjoy this, but he needs to see Mihashi right now and make sure everything is still okay. So, he looks up at him with a hazy, lightly unfocused stare. Mihashi is intently watching what he’s doing, flushed, mouth hanging open as he pants out soft, breathy noises. He looks up when he registers Abe’s movement, eyes wide for a moment, then softening as they slide back down his body. Abe’s thighs part a tiny bit more as his hips twitch, pushing back onto Mihashi’s fingers.

And when Mihashi slides his fingers back inside, he obediently crooks his fingers. Abe’s breath catches, and he shakes one hand free of the covers to press it low on his belly, just inches from his dick. Another push of Mihashi’s fingers inside him, and he flinches, shivers, then bites his lip to muffle a moan. Now, he watches Mihashi, though his eyes have wandered down from his face to where he’s sliding his free hand up, off his thigh. He initially fails to register the meaning of the movement as Mihashi wraps his hand around the base of his dick, the meaning when Mihashi leans forward, but even when he does, he only manages to make a vague noise of protest before Mihashi’s licking a wet line up the underside of his dick and his brain short-circuits.

“Oh, _fuck_ me,” he groans, eyes shutting as he shoves his head back into the bed, hips arching up. Mihashi’s mouth is soft, warm, and _impossibly_ wet as it slides over the head of his dick, and it’s unbearable, painfully good. He only gets the chance to slide his mouth down a little, tongue curling against the underside, fingers pushing into Abe's ass at a fast, erratic pace, before Abe’s thighs tense to trembling, and he comes, silent on a held breath. Mihashi chokes out a cry, then moans around his dick, shivery and squirming.

Abe’s legs continue to shake even as Mihashi lets his softening dick slip from between his lips. Gradually, his hips settle back down on the bed, followed by his shoulders, until he’s settled fully back. He exhales his held breath, slow but stuttering. He feels syrupy warm, rolling his hips languidly a few times, barely noticing that Mihashi’s fingers are still inside of him even though his movement pushes them deeper. His eyes crack open, lids remaining low and sleepy over darkened eyes, laboriously tracking Mihashi’s movements as he pushes himself up and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Abe meets Mihashi’s gaze and just blinks, mouth open on soft but quick breaths.

After a moment, he clears his throat lightly. “Are you…okay?” he murmurs, voice thick, as he props himself up on his elbows.

“Ah??” Mihashi flinches, face mobile with some internal process Abe doesn’t want to try and puzzle out right now. He hunches in on himself briefly, worrying his lip between his teeth.

 _Just say what’s on your mind._ But he doesn’t want to pick a fight, not now.

Whatever inner turmoil Mihashi was going through seems resolved. He leans forward before finally noticing with a jolt that his fingers are still occupied, then slips them out, casting about until he finds the discarded cloth. Abe pushes himself up a little higher as Mihashi cleans his hand, contentedly stretching his legs out when Mihashi tugs on his knees. He brings them together until Mihashi is trapped between them, smiling up at him, breath finally slowing and deepening.

Mihashi’s eyes widen, then soften as he sways forward, erection bobbing and attracting Abe’s gaze downward. Abe props himself up on his hands, then sits up fully. Mihashi comes up on his knees to meet him, fitting himself against Abe, hips twitching and pushing his dick against his stomach just under his ribs. Abe puts his hands on either side of Mihashi’s thighs, hold much lighter than usual, as Mihashi slings an arm around his neck, staring down at him with heavy-lidded eyes. Abe meets his stare, his own expression drowsy, for once not showing a single sign of irritation. Everything is honey-warm and sleep-fuzzed, Mihashi's hair and eyes in the filtered afternoon light, and the sweat still standing on their skin, smeared together, and Abe feels a deep contentedness well in him.


	14. Hoshitsu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a note: this isn't the most emotionally comfortable chapter, so just. uh. yeah.
> 
> this, and the chapter following, is def a low point in terms of abe and mihashi's relationship--to parallel how enmired they were getting in canon--but like canon, it's a point that makes them realise that something has to change. neither me nor bb are interested in writing stories that wallow in unhealthiness.
> 
> sorry I haven't been around;;; was out of work and kind of low/blocked for a month and a half (why is it when you have time your muse is like LOL BYE SUCKA), and then pchooooo into working full time and not much energy these past few weeks. working on some new stuff, though, and hopefully, it won't be so long before the next chapter!!
> 
> alsO SORRY I've been kinda terrible about responding to comments lately;;; I know most people don't mind, but I just. AM MAYBE A BIT OF AN ANXIOUS PERSON OKAY.

Mihashi puzzles over Abe’s question, but he can’t figure out the right answer.  _ ‘Are you okay?’ Of course I am? _

_ There must be another reason he asked. Did I do something that made it seem…? _ It’s hard to focus when he’s still aching to get off--again--and Abe just looks so gorgeous and melty and quiet and if Mihashi could just sink down with him and sleep, maybe that would best, maybe then he wouldn’t have to think anymore about what he’s done wrong.

He sways forward, unsure how to form the words to ask, hoping, hoping Abe will understand. Whatever connection they’d built still lingers, Abe pushing himself up to meet him and sliding his palms up his thighs, gentle, so much gentler than Mihashi feels worthy of. He tries, he tries to ignore the urge to rub against Abe’s sweat-slick stomach, still leaping with uneven breaths and then all he can think about is how  _ hot _ Abe looked. The whole time, but especially there at the end. Mihashi flushes hotly down his whole body at the memory, at the lingering bitterness in his mouth.

_ But...in all that, I did something wrong, still. I shouldn’t have put my mouth...or… _

Hands brush up along his thighs to his hips, petting up to his waist and then down again. Mihashi shakes his head, frowning to himself, and slides his hand up Abe’s jaw, up into his already mussed hair, tugging his face against him and curling over. With a slow inhale, he nuzzles Abe’s hair. Abe drags his hands back up, stopping just short of his ribcage before slipping back down to stroke over his belly, shivery and teasing and Mihashi arches, dick slip-sticking against Abe’s sweaty skin. His hips quiver, then rock forwards until Abe’s hands are squashed between their bodies, though he doesn’t seem to notice or care. Just presses his cheek against Mihashi’s collarbone, lets him bury his face in his hair and his scent.

Abe makes a low, questioning hum, then speaks, muffled against Mihashi’s skin. “Want me to touch you?”

Mihashi cringes, then mumbles, “Abe-kun…” He wants to be nice, say no, let himself be drawn down in the slow rhythm of Abe’s movements, not be so greedy. “Abe-kun d-d-doesn’t have to…” But there’s still that irresistible pressure, and the thought of Abe with his hands on him again is only making it worse. But it doesn’t seem fair.  _ Abe already got me off once, and then I barely did  _ anything _ for him. Mostly just sat there, doing whatever  _ I _ wanted. Again. I can’t, I can’t ask for more. _ “I can just…”

“That  _ wasn’t _ what I asked you,” Abe grumbles sleepily, but doesn't seem particularly intent on pushing the point. He pulls his hands out from between their bodies, curling his arms around Mihashi, pulling him in tight against his body. Keeping one arm wrapped tight around him, he smooths the other hand down his back to cup his butt.

_ Maybe it's enough, just this. It can be enough. I won't be selfish. _

Abe squeezes lightly, then pulls Mihashi closer so his dick is trapped, so he has only the barest amount of wiggle room. Mihashi tries to hold back a moan but it feels too good, his head tilting back as Abe slowly kisses his throat with damp lips.

His resolve shatters, and just like that, he's full of too much want, too much not to beg greedily for more.

“I wa…nt,” he starts, tilting his hips to push his ass into Abe’s hand. It's _incredibly_ frustrating, not being able to move, but somehow, he likes it, too. He won't mess anything up for Abe if he can't actually _do_ anything. Plus, it feels really good in some unnamable way. _And if I could get Abe to hold me still like this_ and _touch my dick...I think that would be really,_ really _good..._

But he's not really sure how to ask, and maybe Abe would think it was weird, think it was gross, somehow. And it's not like he won't get off, anyway.  _ This probably isn't a good time to ask for anything special. _

But...he thinks maybe it'll make Abe a little happy if he asks for something small. Mihashi draws in a shaking breath, and finishes, "...want Abe-kun...to...touch me."

Then gasps when Abe nips his neck and says, "That's better."

Mihashi colours at the praise, at the feel of Abe's hand sliding down over the sensitive skin of his butt, the back of his thighs. Abe pulls his hand away completely, and then, keeping his other arm wrapped tight around Mihashi, slips his hand in between them. Even though he's waiting, expecting the hand on his dick, he still gasps harshly as Abe encircles the base, squeezing lightly. He strokes slowly up to the head and then drags the pads of his fingers over the tip, leaving Mihashi whimpering, thighs trembling with pent-up arousal and the urge to fuck up into Abe's fist.

"Just  _ ask _ , if you want something," Abe murmurs, lips pressed to the underside of his chin as he continues sliding the tips of his fingers across the head of Mihashi's dick.

Mihashi shivers, moans.  _ Maybe I could ask to...to be held... Abe will tell me if it's too inconvenient... But...did Abe mean asking right now? Or just in general? I already asked for lots of things this time, so maybe I've used up all the asking for today... And he's already sort of doing what I want, anyway... _

_ But maybe that means Abe wouldn't mind doing it? That it wouldn’t be too inconvenient... Maybe, if I asked, even...even if he said no, it would make Abe...maybe...a little bit happy? _

"Um, I...I," he stammers out, blushing brighter, "I...want s-something? I," he frowns, embarrassed and frustrated, trying to find words, "Because... I like when...when Abe-kun stops...when I c-can't..."

Abe's hand stills, just cupping his palm against the head of his dick. He leans back to stare at Mihashi, who avoids looking at him.

_ Abe thinks it's weird, he thinks I'm weird, I should stop, I should stop... _ "Can't move, when I... And if...if Abe-kun t-t-touched m-me then, I might...that would...I'd maybe l-like...that...?" He bites his lip, anxiously steeling himself, waiting for Abe to get mad.

He risks a quick peek down, and swallows a panicked squeak at Abe's narrow-eyed perplexed expression. But when he speaks, his voice is warm, if still mystified-sounding. "You want me to touch you when...you can't move, and then stop...?"

Mihashi nods emphatically;  _ Abe understood! And he only seems a little bit annoyed! _

"You did say before that you liked being held down, I guess..." Without bothering to question him further, Abe moves both hands to Mihashi's shoulders, pushing firmly.

Mihashi lets himself be laid back on the bed, heart beating hard, a small, tentative smile on his lips; he's not entirely certain, but he  _ thinks  _ Abe might be pleased?? And then Abe frowns at him, and he's not so sure anymore.

But before he can really get distressed, Abe's walking forward on his knees, straddling him, sitting low on his thighs. He squeezes in with his feet and calves until Mihashi's legs are firmly pinned together. As Abe looms over him, Mihashi flushes; his weight on his thighs is thrilling, or maybe it's the anticipation, or perhaps the fact that he asked for something and Abe said  _ yes  _ (sort of) and now they're doing it. Before, it just kind of kept... _ happening  _ that he ended up squashed against things, but this time, he knows it's coming, this time, it's on purpose, Abe's doing it on purpose _ , _ just for  _ him _ .

"Here. Put your arms on you chest."

Mihashi’s stomach goes all twisty-tingly, the feeling spreading down to his crotch, making his dick twitch, and he pants out a hungry, needy sound as he obediently draws his hands up in front of him, pressing loosely-curled against his chest. Abe’s eyes widen slightly, and he watches his face carefully as he uses one hand to hold Mihashi’s arms to his chest. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were into this.”

Mihashi tenses a bit. Something about Abe’s blunt statement is  _ really _ embarrassing.  _ What if this  _ is _ weird? What if it’s weird, but Abe feels like he has to do it, because I asked, and he  _ told _ me to ask for things, so he has to, but he doesn’t want to, and…and... _ He wishes he could hide, suddenly, avoid those grey eyes, and so he closes his own, turning his head to jam his chin against his shoulder, lips pressed together in a tight line.

But as Abe gradually leans his weight onto his arm, simultaneously trapping his arms against his chest and pinning him down to the bed, it gets less upsetting than it is hot. Abe draws his calves in tighter, ensuring that Mihashi still won’t be able to move his legs, then slides his free hand down his stomach. Mihashi gasps, then moans when Abe wraps his fingers around the base of his dick, just holding it for a moment.

“How’s this, Mihashi? Good?”

The urge to wiggle is irresistible, but he’s pinned tight, and can’t do much other than tense his muscles, toes spreading. “G-g-good,” he pants out, looking at Abe out of the corner of his eyes, “li-like…it…”

Abe meets his eyes, and he looks…he looks kind of pleased?? Mihashi slowly faces him, stare still nervous, but his eyes flutter shut as Abe slides his fingers up the length of his dick, squeezing lightly just below the head. He whimpers a little as Abe adjusts his grip and then starts stroking his dick, setting a slow but steady rhythm, pausing occasionally to rub his thumb against the head. The skin-on-skin contact is amazing, but… There’s something more in the slight difficulty expanding his chest, in Abe’s feet digging into his calves, the feel of his butt and thighs pressed against his legs, something Mihashi is too tired and too turned on to put a name to. Something that makes him open his eyes again, seeking Abe’s steady gaze as he gasps and trembles underneath him.

Abe’s eyes slip off his, though, and then he suddenly releases his dick; Mihashi pants out an incoherent noise of protest, but then he’s tugging his arms above his head to pin them against the bed as he curls over him, and Mihashi likes  _ that _ . All he can really move right now is his head, so he lifts it to meet Abe as he leans in to kiss him, their lips crushing together in a closed-mouth kiss. His wrists kind of hurt but then Abe tilts his chin, jaw working as he urges his mouth open, tongue pressing wet against his lower lip. Mihashi parts his lips with a desperate moan, and he’s too hot, but even so, he can feel the heat of Abe’s body, of his skin just above the head of his dick, tempting, making the back of his thighs and his butt tense with the urge to rub up against him. He sucks in Abe’s tongue, sliding his own along the underside, and it strikes him that it’s kind of the same motion as sucking him off. Mihashi blushes, lips closing around Abe’s tongue in a pleased hum as he slicks it into his mouth, over and over again, and all he can think about is how much he wants another chance to have Abe’s dick filling his mouth, hot against his tongue.

Abe squeezes his forearms, pushing down a little harder so that he’s unquestionably trapped; it hurts, though, is half-crushing them, but Mihashi doesn’t want to say anything because then he might stop and it feels too good otherwise. But just when it starts getting too much, Abe lightens his grip. Only as he relaxes, Mihashi notices he’d balled his hands into fists.

It would be so easy for Abe to lower himself just a little more, let Mihashi’s dick slide against his skin, press him down with his full body so that his dick was deliciously trapped between them, but he remains still, curved over Mihashi and leaving his dick completely untouched, and it’s wonderful agony. He breathes out little appreciative noises each time Abe’s tongue slides into his mouth. Abe gradually pulls back from the kiss, teeth grazing Mihashi’s lower lip before he kisses his jaw. Head tilting, he kisses the soft skin just behind Mihashi’s ear; he tips his head back, pushing against the bed, wanting more. Abe exhales a warm, lingering breath, nuzzling his neck, and it’s good, it’s wonderful, but it’s not. It’s not quite what he wants right now.

_ Maybe Abe didn’t quite understand? No… So maybe he really doesn’t want to do this?? Or maybe he got tired. Maybe he’s bored? Maybe we’re done now. But…but I’m still hard, and if Abe fell asleep on top of me like this, I won’t even really be able to do anything about it myself… _

Mihashi tries making a pleading noise, but Abe just nuzzles him again. It slowly dawns on Mihashi that if he wants to be touched, he might have to ask.

On his own.

Unprompted.

It’s terrifying.

There’s no way.

Just the same…  _ Abe might be really pleased. He might…he might praise me! Again! And it’ll feel so good…  _ His dick twitches encouragingly as a shiver of pleasure runs down him.

Summoning every bit of courage he has, he stammers out, “A…be-kun? Ah…I…” Abe lifts his head, but then grimaces as uselessly incoherent words slip out of him. “I w-wa…c-can…um. I wa…” Not going terribly well so far.  _ Deciding _ he has to do it is one thing; actually finding the words is quite another. His breathing is starting to speed up, his pulse pounding in his ears.

But then Abe kisses his mouth, quick and light and moderately reassuring, then releases his arms, less reassuring, leaning back. Mihashi tilts his head up, trying to follow Abe’s lips.

Abe says, “Sorry. Here.” Mihashi’s arms feel oddly light without Abe’s hands on them, but he leaves them stretched above him, unwilling to move. He watches with a tiny frown as Abe sits up, resting his weight fully on Mihashi’s thighs again as he looks around for something.

_ Why did he apologise? What for? Abe didn’t do anything wrong, I was just being greedy and impatient… Abe must know that, right? _

Still confused, but feeling oddly happy, Mihashi opens his mouth to say something grateful just as Abe gets his lubed-up fingers around his hard-on. Mihashi’s breath punches out of him on a loud, “Ah!” Making a horrified face, he claps his hand over his mouth, only to moan into them, eyes closing, as Abe slowly strokes his dick, spreading the lube with a faint slicking noise.

Mihashi blinks his eyes open as Abe’s hand slides easily back down the length of his dick, but squeezes them shut again with a whimper at the sight of Abe watching with blatant interest as he strokes his dick a couple more times, quicker now. Mihashi arches off the bed, unprepared for the new, wonderful slipperiness of the lube. And combined with Abe’s firm, warm hand… Confusion melts away into a hot blur of mounting pleasure.

Abe holds Mihashi’s dick a little tighter as he jerks him off, slippery grip sliding quickly over the hot, tender skin. Mihashi can’t resist peeking again, panting out heavy breaths against his fingers, drinking in Abe’s heated gaze as he shifts on his thighs, sliding a free hand over his side. His skin feels oversensitive wherever Abe’s hand touches, and he arches again, his desperate gasping inhale hindered by his hands.

“Mihashi,” Abe says quietly, sliding his fingers around the head of Mihashi’s dick, circling it.

Mihashi’s eyes find his, curious. Shaking a little with effort, he forces himself flat against the bed, hands slipping off his mouth to curl under his chin. He’s not entirely sure whether Abe was asking something or not, but he feels like he should answer. “Y-yeah?”

Abe flushes a bright red, then shakes his head; Mihashi’s eyes go wide as Abe reaches to cover his mouth, palm pressing damp against his lips. “You don’t need to talk right now,” he says, frowning.

_ I messed up, I wasn’t supposed to answer, wasn’t supposed to say anything, and now, and now, Abe’s mad at me, and-- _

“Just relax, okay?”

But Abe hasn’t taken his hand off his dick, though his grip lightens, stroking him slippery quick, setting a relentless pace. It’s all just really confusing, there’s too much, too much, and Mihashi just gives up.

All that matters is the slick hand on his dick, the waves of pleasure riding through him, Abe’s hand sticking slightly against his lips, different from his mouth, rougher and less yielding and yet still amazing in its own way. Mihashi moves his lips against it, half-kissing, eyes fluttering closed. It’s really hard to stay still, and even with Abe on top of him, even though he can barely move, he can’t resist fucking up into his fist as much as he can. Initially, there’s some control in the way he tenses his hips, but pretty quickly, his movement becomes random until his entire body is shaking and his mind is blissfully blank heat as Abe strokes him through his orgasm.

Abe slows his hand as Mihashi relaxes back on the bed, finally sliding his hand away to rest, sticky with lube and come, against his waist as he leans over him. Mihashi blinks his eyes open, but Abe’s face is scary, and he squeezes them shut again.

He  _ should _ feel relaxed, was counting on drowning out the bad feelings in that drowsy contentment. But he almost feels more frightened now. Every little screw-up is crashing down over him. Every time he’s stopped them, made this harder for Abe, drawn things out because he did or said something stupid, or through his sheer selfishness. Every time he’s been awful and annoying and made Abe mad at him…  _ How long will it be before Abe completely loses patience with me? _

For a moment, he thinks he might start crying again, and he’s so focused on holding back tears, on trying to relax, that he almost doesn’t notice Abe move his hand off his mouth, leaning forward, cupping the side of his face, and kissing him, lips soft and shut. But then, with a plaintive hum, he kisses him back, lifting heavy arms to encircle his neck.

_ If Abe gets fed up with me here, if he starts to hate me because of what I’ve made us do? What will that mean for us as a battery? What if Abe didn’t want to catch for me anymore? _

_ I’d be nothing. _

Breath speeding up, he tugs Abe closer as he presses wet kisses against his lips. He wants,  _ needs _ the reassurance of his warmth right now; just hands won’t be enough. Abe opens his mouth, and Mihashi flicks his tongue against his lips, then pulls back a little to suck on his lower lip. He tries to lose himself in kissing, wriggling as Abe slowly stretches out his legs and settles down on top of him, pressing him gently into the mattress. He  _ hopes _ the sound he makes sounds happy, because it  _ does _ feel good,  _ so _ good, and he needs, needs,  _ needs _ it right now, needs to be close, needs to feel like Abe likes him, like he’s not just looking after Mihashi yet again, like he’s not annoyed and probably waiting for Mihashi to let him go so he can leave already.

And then he is crying again, fat hot tears streaking down into his ears, ticklish, and it’s sort of ridiculous in a way that just makes it even  _ more _ miserable.

There’s this immense divide in him: on the surface, his skin, his limbs, everything is okay, better than okay, everything makes sense,, but then in his chest, in his head, in the twin lines of wetness spilling down his face like a single betrayal of everything inside… The tighter he clings to this comfort, the more scared he feels, the worse everything he does seems. But there’s no way he’s letting go because that would be so much more terrifying.

He knows his breath is hitching suspiciously, knows from the way Abe stills that he’s probably noticed, but… Mihashi slides a hand up Abe’s neck to the back of his head, trying to hold him close, trying to keep him from seeing, trying to keep kissing as if it’s fine. But then Abe’s jaw clenches, and he exhales a long breath and then pulls away.

Mihashi’s pulse leaps, but he’s still close, still kissing him, just on his cheek now.

“It’s…okay,” Abe starts, awkwardly, and Mihashi chokes out a sob, because he’s making things  _ worse _ , he  _ knows _ he is, and Abe’s saying all these things just to make him feel better and all he can do is keep bawling like a little kid. “I’m not mad about anything. I’m--” Abe interrupts himself, pulling free of Mihashi’s hold entirely so he can sit up; his panic spikes, and he cries out before he understands what Abe’s doing, but then he’s pulling Mihashi up to mash him against his chest in a tight hug.

And now he’s  _ really _ crying, face pressed against Abe’s skin as his body heaves with great wracking sobs, hands curled into fists against Abe’s shoulders, because he doesn’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve this niceness, doesn’t deserve this wonderful boy who sits in his lap and buries his nose in his hair and slides a comforting hand down his back, even though he  _ must _ be mad, must be sick of this. And he doesn’t understand why he’s still here, why he’s crushing him tighter against himself instead of leaving, petting him more firmly and nuzzling him.

And even though it kind of makes the pit in his chest open wider, it also helps. Eventually, Mihashi cries himself out, sobs fading to pathetic snuffly inhales. He’s able to focus on how good Abe’s hands feel, how safe he feels being held like this.

Mihashi turns his head and rubs his cheek against Abe; tired already, crying has exhausted what little he had left, and lying down seems like a good idea, though he’s not entirely sure how to get them there. He slips his hand up, curling it around Abe’s neck, tugging lightly and murmuring, “Sleepy…” into his shoulder.

Abe twitches in surprise, then squeezes Mihashi tight for a second. “Me too. Let’s just,” he mumbles, voice already sleep-thick. Tugging Mihashi down with him, Abe curls up on his side, reaching behind himself to grab the blanket and haul it over them.

Face-to-face, he curls an arm around Mihashi’s waist and pulls him in close.

_ Even after all that, Abe doesn’t hate me, somehow?? He’s probably too tired _ .

Mihashi sighs happily, and bumps their noses together. Closer would be better, he wants to touch more, so he nudges his foot in between Abe’s legs; he parts them a tiny bit so that Mihashi can easily slide his leg between his, wiggling nearer, and then curls his arm to keep a close hold on him, hand tucked between him and the bed.

Tipping his head back, Mihashi blinks sleepily at Abe, looking at him for the first time since he started crying. It’s sort of startling how appealing he looks, eyelids drooping as he blinks sleepily, and it leaves Mihashi with some calm warmth spreading through his chest. He slides his fingers up to cup Abe’s jaw, provoking a soft questioning sound, then leans in to kiss him, but stops with their lips barely touching, suddenly unsure. But Abe instantly closes the distance. It’s a light, somewhat clumsy squish of his lips against Mihashi’s, but it’s warm and affectionate and easy, and he half-smiles into it, relieved.

Mihashi kisses him once more, winning a vague content noise, then pulls back to relax on the pillow, watching as Abe smushes his cheek against the pillow and then blinks slowly. He feels warm and squiggly inside, but it’s not enough to keep him awake. Breath slowing, he hums a happy noise when Abe squeezes him tight, and watches him through his lashes as long as he can before he falls fast asleep.


End file.
